The Perfect Match
by HariboRain
Summary: (FACE family AU fic. Human names used.) Arthur is still trying to get over Alfred's mother running out on them for some other guy. His friends have been encouraging him to go on a dating site, and when he starts talking to a mysterious 'France', it is the start of something Arthur definitely wasn't expecting….Rated T for language and implied themes...cuz yh I'm going there...
1. France?

**Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia I wouldn't be writing Fanfiction…but I am….so I don't.**

**Summary: Arthur is still trying to get over Alfred's mother running out on them for some other guy. His friends have been encouraging him to go on a dating site, and when he starts talking to a mysterious 'France', it is the start of something Arthur definitely wasn't expecting….**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1<span>**

"Time for bed, Alfred."

Alfred stopped playing with his action-hero toy and looked up at his father as he entered the room – blonde hair, green eyes, bushy eyebrows, bad temper, and utter meanie…a totally uncool dad.

"But Daaaaad!" Alfred whined, his little curl bouncing around as he crossed his arms huffily over his chest.

"You should've been in bed an hour ago." His father replied, frowning slightly and picking the boy up, placing him in his off-the-floor bed.

"I know what Mum would say!" Alfred yelled, starting his protest.

His father stiffened as Alfred mentioned his mother. "_Arthur, just how do you expect to be a good parent if you lack discipline?_" Alfred put on a high-pitched voice, mimicking his mother.

"That's enough out of you, Alfred." Arthur almost growled, not bothering to tuck his son in and turning out the light, slamming the door behind him. Alfred huddled under his blanket, knowing that, once again, he shouldn't have brought up the subject of his mother.

Arthur hadn't smiled even once since she ran off with some other guy, Alfred thought he had seen him hanging around the school a couple of times, but he didn't know the guy otherwise. His father had stayed in the house for weeks, the only one he saw was Alfred. He took to drinking, and when added to his bad temper, he could be very scary. But he stopped drinking so much when Social Services threatened to take Alfred away from him. Alfred was the one thing Arthur had left, and he would not ever let them be separated.

The man hesitated in the hallway outside Alfred's room, letting out a shaky breath before continuing downstairs. He grabbed a beer from the fridge before sitting down – none too elegantly – at the kitchen table. Laying his head to rest on his arm, he watched the light from his laptop flash on and off – he had left it charging on the table and forgot to take it upstairs with him.

_She left you_

_Get over it_

_C'mon, how long has it been now?_

_You need to get up and start seeing people again_

_It'll do both you and Alfred some good_

_Trust me._

Arthur frowned as he thought of all those things his friends and colleagues had told him recently, and rested his forehead on the table.

_I…don't want to…let go… _Oh come now, that was taking a break-up to a whole new level of 'pathetic'. Arthur clenched his fists at how weak he was being, and grabbed his laptop, punching the keys as if everything that had gone wrong in his life was his laptop's fault. He browsed a few dating sites, but as soon as he clicked on them, the screen was filled with cheesy images of unrealistically happy couples with their hands intertwined.

It made Arthur rolled his eyes, until he came to a site that had the name simply as a banner at the top of the screen in elegant writing.

"Perfect Match?" Arthur read aloud – only the name of the site was cringe-worthy so far. He decided to look through the format and everything, to make sure he understood what it was asking him. _Okay, so far it's easy to follow…this is still a ridiculous idea though. _He hesitated, but made a profile, leaving out any information about Alfred – if they were really promising, then he'd tell them, otherwise they didn't need to know about him. He selected an appropriate image of him – Alfred, his mother and Arthur all smiling on holiday, with Alfred and his mum cropped out carelessly. He waited for around half an hour with the tab still open, while he checked his empty email inbox for the tenth time. All of a sudden, a small notification popped up saying '_France sent you a message_'.

'France'? What sort of username was that? He clicked on the message, and read it with a somewhat amused look.

_'Bonjour, new member! You look interesting…'_

Well, that was a cheesy hello.

'Interesting how?' Arthur replied, wanting to know more about this 'France' person.

_'Different. A lot of men on this site have pictures of them topless and showing off their obviously fake abs…but you look normal.'_

'Well I apologise for my lack of abs.' The Brit replied, smirking a little.

'France' sent a smiley emoticon in return, before saying '_So how long have you been single?'_

Arthur and 'France' spent most of the night talking about casual, personal, and general things, and before he knew it, Alfred was wondering downstairs sleepily.

"You're up early," Alfred remarked, before looking at the bags under his father's eyes and correcting himself. "Or, you never went to sleep at all last night?"

Arthur smiled somewhat guiltily at him. "I guess I didn't realise the time." He said apologetically.

"What were you even doing?" Alfred asked, curiously stepping over to peer at the laptop screen, but Arthur put the lid down before he could.

"Breakfast?" Arthur changed the subject, and the seven year-old trudged over and sat down at the table.

"Yeah…" He mumbled.

"'Yeah' what?" Arthur always believed there was nothing wrong with good manners.

"Yeah…_please_…" Alfred corrected, emphasising the word with sarcasm and pulling a face.

"Was that so hard?" Arthur asked, but his son only grunted in response. Arthur made him a bowl of cereal – he complained about any of Arthur's home-cooking – pausing with his hand still on the bowl until Alfred thanked him for it through gritted teeth. He let go of the bowl and set about making his own breakfast, when a little beep came from his laptop. He blushed slightly as he remembered he was still talking to 'France'. Alfred gave him a suspicious look, but he ignored it, setting his bowl down and taking the seat opposite Alfred.

"Have you got your bag ready yet?" Arthur asked, and his son nodded, acting like he was already bored of the conversation. Arthur dismissed the behaviour, and the over-exaggerated yawn his son displayed. "What about your homework? Have you done – "

"Yeah, yeah…" Alfred replied, waving his hand dismissively.

"Alfred…" Arthur began in a warning tone, but Alfred looked up, silently challenging him to continue. Arthur narrowed his eyes and sipped his tea, avoiding a yelling match that would've occurred had Arthur done anything to rise to the boy. He knew his son well, but the scary thing was how well his son knew him. Arthur glanced at the clock as he took another sip of tea. Then did a double-take and hurriedly looked back at it to see that Alfred needed to be in school in ten minutes. Alfred noticed too and grabbed his bag as Arthur grabbed his keys and they drove off to school in a rush.

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><p><em>Well, that was hectic as usual… <em>Arthur thought to himself as he walked back through the front door. He just hoped Alfred hadn't forgotten anything. He sighed, hanging his keys back up on the little hook by the door, and decided to make a cup of tea. Putting the teabag in the cup, he automatically filled the kettle up and began boiling the water, without even having to look where he put everything – it was his routine now. Once he had made his tea, he settled down and opened up his laptop. Almost at once multiple notifications saying '_France sent you a message_' all popped up. _Wow, this girl must really want to talk to me_. He thought, a little flattered, actually. The first few messages were just smiling and winking emoticons, then it started saying '_Are you there_?' and '_If you don't want to talk, just say…_'

Arthur set his cup down and began typing:

'Sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you like that, I was…' Arthur thought for a moment. 'Busy.' _If she doesn't care, she won't ask. _

'Busy? Your life must be interesting then…' Arthur slowly got the implied meaning, and blushed, even though no one was looking at him.

'No, I didn't mean like…_that_.'

_'Like what, mon ami?' _He could almost see the smirk written over the typed words.

Arthur sent an unimpressed emoticon at that, and 'France' sent a laughing one back to him. He had to smile, which was surprising as no one had been able to make him smile that easily before. They started another conversation, causing Arthur to be late picking Alfred up. But all the while, he just couldn't get the mysterious 'France' out of his thoughts.

_Who was this 'France' person, and why do I want to meet her more and more every time we talk?_

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><p><strong>AN: So that was the first chapter of my hopefully long FACE family fanfic! Did you like how Arthur automatically assumed France to be a girl? Muhahaha XD Reviews please! (Like, seriously, you have no idea how much they mean to me!) *has no life and doesn't care***


	2. You're interesting

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 2<span>**

Alfred noticed that his father had seemed happier since last night, but he also seemed to be glued to his laptop, and that was very strange, especially for a man who believes too much of the 'small screens' is bad for you. The young boy sat in his room, trying to work it out as he heard his father chuckle slightly downstairs.

_He couldn't be talking to Mom, because he'd be in a bad mood by now. Maybe to one of his friends?_

Alfred tried to think of any friends his father even had. There was the Chinese guy who lived next door, but Arthur only really talked to him if he needed someone to look after Alfred. His son suddenly realised what a loner Arthur was – he didn't even have any proper friends!

_Maybe it was a good thing he was talking to someone online then_, Alfred thought, smiling a little. No matter what it looked like to other people, Alfred did _love_ his father, he just didn't _like_ him very much.

_Whoever this girl is, she really knows how to talk to people…_Arthur thought as 'France' sent something else, making him smile a little. He supposed he should've expected what came next.

_'So, you seem like an interesting man. We should meet up for dinner sometime, oui?'_ She said. Arthur didn't reply for a few minutes, so she continued.

_'I mean, why are you on a match site if you didn't want to meet new people, hm?_' She had a point.

'Alright,' Arthur typed back, and she sent him the details of a nice restaurant that only happened to be a little way from his own house.

_Le Bel Endroit_? He had gone past it a few times, but never really paid much attention to it.

'When?' He typed back, and she immediately replied, '_Saturday evening? 7pm_?'

'Sounds good.' He replied shortly, though inside he was actually excited. 'How shall I know it's you?'

'_Blonde hair, blue eyes, calling your name until you look over_?'

He smiled, she still wasn't giving much away, was she?

'Alright then,' he sent, and she replied with that somewhat cheesy line, '_It's a date, mon cher…_'

'I have to go now, but I'll look forward to seeing you then.' He said, about to log off, before another message popped up.

'_Oui, mon cher, so will I…_' That made him happy for some reason._ Someone is willingly talking to me and wants to go on a – don't get ahead of yourself, Arthur._ He mentally calmed himself, before going upstairs to Alfred's room.

The boy was enthusiastically killing some teddy bears with a little toy alien his parents had bought him when he was a baby.

"Having fun?" The man asked casually, going over and sitting on the boy's bed.

"What's up, Dad?" Alfred asked, putting 'Tony' – the alien – down to show that he was giving him his full attention, and grinning at him.

Arthur raised a huge eyebrow, before smiling back slightly.

"I'm going out on Saturday night, and I'm going to ask Yao to look after you, is that alright?"

Alfred pulled a face. "But you can't even breathe in that house without him saying 'Don't break this or don't touch that!', and his kids are mean! Can't I stay with…hm…" He thought for a while, before his face lit up. "What about Miss Hed – Heda – Harvey?" Alfred could never pronounce her name, but Elizaveta was always nice to him.

"If you mean Miss _Héderváry, _I don't think she wants to be burdened with you again…"

"But I promise I'll be good this time!" Alfred looked at him – he had perfected a certain 'puppy-dog' look over the years, and Arthur always seemed to fall for it eventually.

"Alright, I'll call her. But if there's even a hint of unwillingness in her voice, then you're staying with Yao, understand?" But Alfred wasn't listening.

"Yay!" He shouted, running happily around the room. Elizaveta only lived down the street, but the way Alfred was acting, you'd have thought she was some long-lost aunt or something. Arthur sighed, knowing that Elizaveta would be more than happy for his son to stay with her – after all, it must be lonely living by yourself.

He began going down the stairs, but had to stop as Alfred zoomed past him and stood next to the phone excitedly. Arthur shook his head a little at this, before dialling the number and putting a finger on his lips, signalling Alfred should be quiet.

A chirpy sounding woman with a strong Hungarian accent answered.

_"Szia?"_ Arthur assumed she said 'Hello' and began.

"Hello, it's – "

_"Arthur? How nice to hear from you again!"_ He didn't realise his voice was so easily identifiable.

"Yes, hello. Um, I was wondering, are you free on Saturday night?" He blushed as he realised what that sounded like. "T-To look after Alfred I mean."

Elizaveta seemed oblivious – or maybe she was just being kind – and immediately replied.

_"Of course! May I ask where you're going on said Saturday evening?"_ She was nice, but she did like a bit of information. Before he could reply, she squealed down the phone.

_"Do you have a girlfriend, Arthur?" _

"N-No…" He replied, turning away from Alfred to hide his blush.

_"…Boyfriend, then?"_ She sounded a lot more hopeful this time.

"No!" Arthur almost yelled, but she just laughed.

_"Alright, alright….so?"_

"How about I tell you when I drop Alfred off?"

_"Okay then! What time?" _

"Um…is half past six alright for you?"

_"Mm hmm!"_ Again, Arthur was going to take that for a 'yes'.

"Thank you so much. Bye now." He hung up, slightly happier now that Alfred had been dealt with.

Alfred, who was hanging on every word his father had said, started skipping around in the hallway in excitement.

"What day is it today, Dad?" He asked, stopping right next to his father.

"It's Friday…" He trailed off.

He'd known what the day was, but it didn't register that he would be going on his date…TOMORROW!

The thought made him very excited, and he had to calm himself down before Alfred thought he was having some sort of seizure.

"Oh yeah…YUSH! No more school for a whole 2 days!" Alfred always got happier over the weekends – he always thought school was boring and he was never going to need it in the future.

Well, he wasn't, but if Arthur told him that, Alfred would never go to school again.

"AND…I get to see Miss what's-her-name too! She has like THE BEST cookies in the whole wide world!" He gestured wildly with his hands to help put his point across. Arthur didn't bother correcting him again, he'd never be able to say her surname so there was no point in wasting breath.

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><p>As soon as Arthur pulled up outside Elizaveta's house, Alfred was out of the car and knocking loudly on the door. It opened almost immediately and both Alfred and Elizaveta grinned at each other excitedly. She had probably been waiting for this as much as Alfred had. She enjoyed spending time with his son, although Arthur would never fully understand why. He walked up the pretty, well-kept drive and was greeted with a friendly hug from the Hungarian. She beckoned them both inside and directed Alfred to the cookies in the kitchen, before literally dragging Arthur into another room. <em>God, she was strong when she wanted to be.<em>

"So…?" Her eyes gleamed as she waited for Arthur to explain. _Much like another child. Maybe that's why they got along so well._

"It's…a date, I guess." He confessed, and Elizaveta was confused as to why he couldn't mention that over the phone. He saw her look and explained.

"Alfred…and I…still aren't completely…over his mother leaving…" The Hungarian smiled sympathetically at him.

"I understand. So, he doesn't know you're going on a date, I take it?" Arthur shook his head.

"So, where does he think you're going?"

"He didn't ask." Arthur said simply, shrugging a little. Elizaveta smiled, and hugged him again.

"I think you're doing the right thing, Arthur." She told him, releasing him and smiling at him warmly. The Englishman smiled back slightly, before glancing at the clock on the wall behind her.

"I have to go now. Thanks again for this!" Arthur said, already heading for the front door again.

"It's my pleasure! Oh, and Arthur?" She called, making him stop and turn around.

"Yes?"

"I can let Alfred stay overnight if you want me to…" She winked at him, and he blushed, muttering a nervous "That won't be necessary, thank you!" before getting back in the car and driving off down the street.

Elizaveta smiled, before joining Alfred in the kitchen with the now half-empty plate of cookies.

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><p><strong>AN: Haha…okay so although this basically tells you nothing, I wanted to put more detail into it! But I promise you it will move along more soon! Next chapter is the date~~~**

**Reviews please!**


	3. First Date

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 3<span>**

Arthur gripped the steering wheel tighter than usual as he drove towards _Le Bel Endroit_, his face a mask of concentration as he felt the butterflies in his stomach fluttering as if they were trying to get free.

_What am I getting so worked up about anyway? It's not like I've never been on a date before….it's just that…the last time, it was with_ her…

The Englishman mentally shook his head, swearing that he would not think about _her_ anymore. Especially not tonight…

He suddenly realised he had already parked in the restaurant car park, so he took a deep breath and got out of the car, making a mental reminder not to have too much to drink. He straightened his tie as he looked in the little wing-mirror, before frowning at himself, but deciding he looked presentable, and walked in. He was greeted by the sound of traditional French music and delicious smells as stood nervously for a few moments, before he heard his name.

"Arthur Kirkland? _Oui_, Arthur!" He turned around, completely unprepared for what he saw next.

_Blonde hair? Yes. _

_Blue eyes? Yes. _

_Of the female fucking gender? I think not! _

Before him, sat a man, with wavy girly blonde hair, bright, sparkling blue eyes, and a light stubble on his chin, holding a half-empty wine glass in his hand.

"What the hell? Where's the '_France_' person?!" Arthur asked, raising his voice slightly. The other man set down his wine glass, and gestured to the seat opposite.

"Please sit down, _et_ I shall explain, _oui_?" He asked, looking intently at the Englishman. Arthur frowned, but sat down somewhat warily.

"Fine." He growled, evidently annoyed at this sudden twist. The man looked grateful, pouring some wine into a second glass and offering it to him. Arthur said he wouldn't drink tonight, but he seriously needed something right now. He took the glass, nodding his head slightly in thanks.

"My real name is Francis Bonnefoy." He began, his French accent annoying Arthur already. He must have shown it on his face, for Francis continued more quickly. "I made a profile on 'Perfect Match' with my real name and profile picture, but then all these young women kept sending _moi_ messages – it was obvious they were only looking for one thing, so I made a new one, allowing me to see other people instead."

Arthur thought Francis was flattering himself a little there; _he's not that good-looking…or attractive in a…different way…no, not at all! _

"So I looked through the 'new members', _et_ when I saw you…I thought you looked intriguing, to say the least."

"Intriguing?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Exactly what do you mean by that?" He couldn't tell whether the Frenchman was complimenting him or not.

Francis smirked, raising his wine glass to his lips while studying Arthur's scowling face. "Interesting. Not trying to impress anyone like so many people on that site – just being you." He put his glass down again. "Well, that's the impression I got anyway…"

"To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it that much, I just filled it in and then you messaged me." Arthur blushed a little, thinking of how he had flirted with this man when he thought he was a woman. Francis seemed to notice this, and cleared his throat.

"I enjoyed talking with you. It was like…_vous_ _et moi_ could converse easily, _non_?" He looked at Arthur, waiting for an answer. When he received nothing but a slight frown in response, he continued.

"You liked talking to _moi, oui_? Well, I am still the same person, you just happen to know my gender now. Nothing has changed, _mon ami_." He did have a point.

"I suppose…you're right. But, I'm not – "

"I understand." Francis interrupted him. "I just thought you should know who you were talking to. Do you hate _moi_ for deceiving you?" He asked. Arthur hesitated. He didn't…_hate_ him…he just…he didn't know what he thought of this man, really. He shook his head slightly, and Francis looked happier suddenly, smiling at him.

"I'm glad, for it wouldn't be good for someone to hate his date, would it?" Arthur blushed, taking a sip of his wine. He had almost forgotten this was meant to be a date. Francis smirked at the other man's reaction, handing him a menu.

"We may as well eat, _oui_? Even if you no longer feel comfortable seeing this as a date, _mon cher_."

He was doing his best not to scare Arthur away, and he appreciated it.

"Yes, why not?" He smiled, surprising himself – he never smiled so easily, especially around new people. Then again, he had been talking with Francis for a while already…_damned frog._ He scanned through the menu – which was pretty pointless because everything was in French anyway.

Francis chuckled quietly at the expression Arthur was making as he tried to make sense of the French writing.

"I gather…you don't speak much _Français_?" The Englishman looked up at him.

"I don't speak _any_ French, actually. I never did find it to be a useful language." He continued to look at Francis challengingly; most people would jump to defending their own language, but Francis merely smiled.

"Believe me, _mon cher_, it _does_ have its uses…" Arthur missed the smirk Francis wore as he said that, and the Frenchman leaned over before he could say anything.

"I shall help you, _oui_?" Arthur noticed how close Francis suddenly was, but he didn't want to make a scene, so he nodded as a blush tainted his cheeks. They were both quiet a moment, Arthur listening to the French melody floating around the restaurant as Francis read the menu. Arthur almost pointed out that Francis did, in fact, have his own menu to look at, but before he could, Francis smiled.

"_Bon_, do you have any allergies, _mon cher_?" He asked, turning to look at Arthur's heated face. Arthur none-too-discreetly moved his chair away from Francis slightly, and smirked.

"Only to bullshit, Frog." He replied, making Francis raise an eyebrow. He pretended to look through the menu again. "Luckily for you, I do not think they serve 'bullshit' here, _mon ami_."

_Very witty_.

Francis grinned at him, and the corners of Arthur's mouth curved upwards slightly in response.

The evening continued much like this, with Arthur making a sarcastic comment and Francis, instead of being offended by it, countered it with a comment of his own. Francis ordered food for them, and although Arthur didn't know what it was exactly, it was still delicious. Arthur also seemed to like the wine, and Francis was more than happy to order another bottle, because Arthur was no longer looking uncomfortable and seemed to be enjoying himself more.

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><p>A few hours later, Francis was stood outside the restaurant, holding up a rather drunken Englishman. He looked around for a moment, before routing through Arthur's pockets. He found what he was looking for, as he dialled the most recently used number on Arthur's phone. It rang for a few moments, before a click told Francis that someone had picked up.<p>

"_Bonjour_, do you know Arthur Kirkland?"

"_Yes, who is this_?"

"My name is Francis. Arthur _et moi_ went out for dinner, _et_ he somehow managed to get a little drunk. I was wondering if you knew where he lived, so I could take him home."

He heard a squeal from the other line. "_Of course! He lives at number 6, Morehead Way_."

"_Merci_."

"_So, is Arthur gay then_?"

"Uh, it was a difficult situation that I'm sure he can explain to you, Miss…um?"

"_Elizaveta, Arthur's friend_."

"Ah, I see."

"_He keeps the spare key under the 'welcome mat' just in case you need it. Oh, and I can let Alfred stay the night_."

"Alfred?"

"_Yes, his son_."

"He has a son?"

"_Oh, didn't he tell you? Alfred is his son from a previous marriage. I'm sorry, I thought he may have told you."_

"Well, _merci_ for your help, Madame…" He hung up, a somewhat bemused look on his face. _Arthur was a father?_

He would never have guessed that. _Why didn't he say so_? He thought as he dragged Arthur to his _Renault Clio_, carefully placing the almost unconscious Englishman in the passenger seat, before pushing the door closed and getting into the driver's seat.

He sighed, glancing over at Arthur before starting the engine.

Thankfully, he vaguely knew where Morehead Way was, and drove there with hardly any trouble. He went up to number 6 and lifted up the 'welcome mat', before unlocking the door and then carrying Arthur – not very gracefully – upstairs, closing the front door with his foot.

He took Arthur's jacket, shoes and shirt off for him, pausing for a moment to take in the modest man's figure. He left the trousers on, because he didn't want Arthur to assume something that didn't even happen. He laid the other man in what he presumed was his bed, before turning the lights out upstairs and leaving a little note for Arthur.

Then he drove off after locking the door and placing the key back under the 'welcome mat', all the while thinking about what Arthur was like as a father.

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><p><strong>AN: So…? Was it good/bad/awful/mildly amusing/hilarious/will you please review to tell me? Thanks!**


	4. A few things we need to talk about

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 4<span>**

Arthur groaned as he opened his eyes, greeted with a throbbing head as he sat up. He recognised with bleary eyes that he was in his own room, but the last thing he remembered…he was…oh God. He jumped out of bed, forgetting about his hangover and groaning again at his protesting head, before moving more slowly. He realised that his shirt had been taken off, but his trousers remained – _maybe he did that…why? Oh, I don't know. It's too fucking early to think._

He looked at the clock on the desk, eyes widening as he saw that it was two o'clock in the afternoon! He checked Alfred's room and realised he must still be with Elizaveta. He was going to have to apologise to her for this, sighing as he went over to the phone. He was about to call, when he saw a little note with his name written in pretty, scrawled writing. He frowned as he picked it up and unfolded it.

_Dear Arthur,_

_Yesterday was nice, we should do it again sometime. _

_But next time, maybe go steadier on the alcohol, oui?_

_I hope you sleep well,_

_Francis_

Arthur frowned: now Francis knew a lot more about him, and they had only met once! Francis had written his phone number at the bottom of the paper, and Arthur copied it onto his phone before disposing of the letter. The last thing he wanted was for Alfred to find it. Arthur was about to dial Elizaveta's number, when the doorbell rang, making Arthur wince slightly, before opening the door.

"Dad!" Alfred yelled, barrelling into his father. He looked past Alfred to see Elizaveta standing there, looking apologetic.

"I said to wait until you called, but Alfred was very anxious to see you." She explained, as Arthur got up.

"That's alright, I was going to call you anyway. I'm sorry I left Alfred at yours overnight – " He began, but Elizaveta smiled.

"Nonsense! It was my pleasure! So…did it go well?" She asked, and Arthur blushed. Alfred took the hint and ran up to his room, yelling something about cookies and being a hero.

Arthur stood aside to let the Hungarian woman in, and they both sat down on opposite sofas in the living room. Elizaveta's eyes were almost sparkling with anticipation, but Arthur merely stood up and got the letter out of the drawer he had 'disposed' of it in. He handed it to her, sitting back down again.

She read it, before placing it down on the coffee table, thoughtfully. After a few moments, she looked up at him.

"I thought you said you were going to go easy on the drink, Arthur?" The Englishman was shocked. Wasn't she surprised that his date had turned out to be a man? Elizaveta sensed this, and smiled.

"Look at your call history." She said simply, and Arthur, frowning, did so.

"I called you?" He asked, not remembering much at all.

"Francis did." She corrected. Arthur's eyes widened as she continued. "He wanted to know where you lived so he could take you home. Your car is still at the restaurant where you left it, I believe. He sounded like a nice man, but you didn't tell me you were – "

"I didn't know he was going to be a man!" Arthur blurted, looking down at his hands guiltily when Elizaveta fell silent. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she waited patiently for him to continue, staring at him with her sparkling green eyes. The man sighed as he leaned back in his chair, as if just thinking about it was too taxing for him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, stalling for a few moments before sighing again. Then he began to explain: Elizaveta's eyes widening every second, and…was she almost grinning?

By the end of it, his Hungarian neighbour looked like she was about to explode. Suddenly, she squealed. Like, actual, full-on I'm-having-a-fangirl-attack-oh-my-gosh-I'm-dying kind of squeal. Upon seeing Arthur's somewhat concerned expression directed towards her, Elizaveta regained control of her inner fangirl and cleared her throat.

"That's very….sweet." She managed without jumping up and hugging him.

"Sweet?" He replied. "Are you mad? The man lied about his gender – "

Elizaveta swiftly interrupted him. "_Technically_ he never said he was a woman…"

"Yes but…he didn't bother to clarify!" Arthur was resisting the urge to yell, but he was failing a little.

But his neighbour was about to do all she could to make this relationship work. Ever since she had accidentally walked in on her boss and his albino lover one time, she had been a committed LGBT supporter, and she would do anything it took to keep those in the possible start of a relationship together. Some called her obsessive, but Elizaveta and her Japanese friend, Kiku, were merely helping relationships along in their minds.

"So, do you want to see him again?" She asked, more delicately this time, for fear of pressuring him. She wanted Arthur to feel he could trust her, otherwise she wouldn't get to see any Kawaii moments (What she and Kiku call fluffy moments) between the two. And she wanted to be a good friend, of course…but it was mainly the Kawaii moments she was after.

Elizaveta had noticed that, while she was pondering the fluffiness of Arthur's relationship, said man had gone very quiet. She noticed that he was looking down slightly, as if he were ashamed, and his brow had furrowed as he contemplated seeing Francis again.

"…I guess, I wouldn't mind seeing him again…" He mumbled, and the Hungarian smiled. She was sure this particular Englishman's relationship was going to work out.

"So when do I get to meet this mysterious Francis then, eh?" She asked, sounding chirpier at the thought of meeting the man who took care of Arthur even though he barely knew him.

"Slow down, Elizaveta. Not even Alfred's met him yet, and I've only met him once." He thought his neighbour was getting a little too eager for this to work out. She pouted slightly, before sighing.

"Fine…when are you going to see him next, then?" She persisted, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I don't know, it just – " His mobile ringing interrupted him as the intro to _'It's My Life'_ by _Bon Jovi_ filled the room, finishing his sentence for him. Elizaveta smiled at the typical tone the Englishman had set as his ringtone, but Arthur missed her reaction as he accepted the call.

"Hello?" He asked clearly.

"_Ah, bonjour, Arthur_!" A cheerful French accent sounded on the other end of the line, making Arthur's chest flutter. He ignored the feeling however, and forced a frown onto his face, for he noted that Elizaveta was scrutinising his face intently for any clues as to who he was talking to. He turned his back to her, casually moving into the kitchen, for fear that his neighbour would catch too much of the conversation.

"Francis? How did you get my number?" Arthur asked; he wouldn't admit it, but he was thrilled that Francis had called him.

"_Ah, sorry about that. I copied your number onto my phone last night, when you were…uh…sleeping it off…_" Arthur mentally face-palmed as he remembered he had been so nervous and confused last night, that he had called upon his addictive yet troublesome friend, alcohol, to help him comprehend the information he had to take in yesterday evening.

"Oh, right." Arthur coughed awkwardly. "Sorry about that…but…um…Elizaveta told me you took good care of me last night."

"_Well, I couldn't just abandon you, mon ami, that wouldn't be a very good end to a first date now, would it_?" He laughed quietly into the phone, causing Arthur to blush faintly. "_Besides, Miss Elizaveta was very willing to help moi out a bit_."

Arthur chuckled as Francis tried to address Elizaveta formally, but either she did not tell him her surname, or he simply couldn't pronounce it, like Alfred.

"_How's Alfred, by the way_?" Francis asked innocently, and Arthur almost shrieked into the phone.

"H-How did you know about Alfred?!" He demanded, and Elizaveta winced at hearing his raised voice. _Oops, perhaps I should have mentioned I shared this little detail with Francis…_At this thought, Elizaveta decided she would retreat upstairs to go play with Alfred for a while.

Meanwhile, Arthur was still waiting for an answer from the handsome but irritating Frenchman.

"Well?" He insisted rather impatiently, suddenly becoming defensive.

"_Your neighbour told me. I'm sorry, I thought you would've given her permission to tell moi…I'm guessing that is not so…_?"

"Not it's bloody not 'so'!" The Brit practically yelled down the phone. _Damn it! He was a nice guy but now he's going to avoid me just because I'm sort of tied down!_

"_Why didn't you want me to know, Arthur_?" His voice had taken on a gentler tone, as if he was understanding.

_Of course, he didn't understand! He doesn't have to bring up his difficult son on his own because his wife left him! _

Arthur was silent for a few moments, before finally sighing.

"I thought it would…put you off. I mean, more than the inability to hold my liquor and my bad temper and horrific eyebrows…" Arthur suddenly realised just how pathetic he was, and was all ready to hang up in the Frenchman there and then, but Francis stopped him from doing so.

"_Not being able to handle your drink very well isn't a weakness or bad quality, Arthur. Also, you had every right to be in a bad mood when I revealed my true identity to you, et your eyebrows make you look cute_."

This surprised Arthur. No one had ever viewed him in this way. Francis had taken the things Arthur hated most about himself, and made them seem like they weren't that bad at all. The Englishman smiled at the Frenchman's words, before uttering a quiet 'Thank you, Francis' into the receiver.

He could almost hear the other man smile on the phone, before he spoke again.

"_So, would you like to meet again, Arthur? I think there's a few things we need to talk about_." He was right.

They'd only properly met once, but Arthur had already shared so much about his usually guarded life, that Francis deserved to know a bit more, at least. He had not been completely honest with the Frenchman, and he didn't want to base a relationship on that.

_Yes, we do need to talk. And I want to see you again._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for not updating for a while but I haven't been in the best mood or had much inspiration as of late. I hope you enjoyed this chapter – next chapter will be revealing more not only about Arthur, but Francis as well. **

**Reviews are much appreciated! ^,^**


	5. Forgive me for asking

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 5<span>**

Arthur's hands gripped the steering wheel somewhat nervously as he drove in the direction of the address Francis had given him. Rain was lashing furiously against the windscreen, and the wipers swept across the screen in a vain attempt to clear it. But Arthur paid no mind to the weather – his thoughts were occupied with how much he may have to reveal a man he had only met once before. It would obviously depend on how much Francis was willing to tell him in return, because he didn't know why but he was feeling like he could trust Francis more than some people he had known for a considerably longer amount of time. Arthur concentrated on the road, not wanting any rogue thoughts to place doubt or an unshakable nagging feeling in the back of his mind. One thing was for sure, he was going to have to explain more about Alfred.

* * *

><p>"Come on now, mon petit Mathieu. Your Aunt is waiting for you." Francis said gently, ushering a little blonde boy holding a stuffed bear out to a car where a young woman with two red bows tied in her brown hair was waving to the boy. His little almost purple eyes lit up upon seeing her, hugging Francis before rushing over and getting into the car. Francis waved from the porch, watching the car disappear around the corner before turning and going back into his recently tidied house. He was usually a neat man, however lately trying to juggle multiple things such as his job and taking care of Mathieu meant sacrificing neatness for ease. As Francis looked around the room, checking for any stray toys or anything Mathieu may have left, the light from the lamp shone on the glass of the singular photo on the mantelpiece. He sighed, approaching it as if he were afraid getting too close would release all the memories that the photograph held within its decorated frame. Before he could dwell on the photo for too long, a rather uncertain knock sounded at the front door, and Francis went over to open it.<p>

"_Bonjour_, Arthur." Francis greeted with a smile. The other man looked a little nervous, only offering Francis a tiny smile in return as he entered the Frenchman's home.

"Hello, Francis." Arthur eventually acknowledged the man as he glanced around at his surroundings. Francis sensed the Brit was quite out of his comfort-zone, and hurried to try and make him feel a little more relaxed.

"May I get you a drink?" He asked, taking Arthur's coat from him and hanging it on the banister where, Arthur observed, the coat of a child was also hanging, but he did not question it at that moment.

"Yes, please." He hesitated, remembering their previous meeting. "Tea, if you have any." He requested, avoiding Francis' gaze as they both shared thoughts of yesterday evening.

"You are in luck, _mon ami_. Usually, we do not have any, but my sister visited so I bought some for her." Arthur noticed the Frenchman had said 'we' instead of 'I'. The Englishman's curiosity was slowly growing with every observation he made. As Francis disappeared into the kitchen, Arthur's attention was drawn to the photograph on the mantelpiece. As he took a closer look, he saw that it was of Francis, a little boy with blonde hair and a cute little curl that disobeyed the rest of his hair, and a woman with almost purple eyes, like the child's, and pale-blonde hair. She was very pretty, and the three of them looked very happy together. Arthur noted that the little boy looked like a smaller version of his – he was assuming – mother, but he had the same hair as Francis, making him look very shy and innocent.

Francis came back into the room with a cup of tea in his hand, catching Arthur looking at the photograph. The Englishman stepped back guiltily, apologising profusely, but Francis wasn't angry with him. He smiled instead.

"_Mon ami_, if I did not want anyone to see that picture, I wouldn't have it on the mantelpiece, would I?" His tone was friendly as he set the cup down on the coffee table, and went to join Arthur, looking fondly at the image. Arthur, being a gentleman, didn't want to ask any questions, but the expression on his face showed Francis that he was very curious indeed. The Frenchman carefully picked u the photograph, bringing it back with him as he sat down on the French-style sofa, patting the seat next to him as a gesture for Arthur to sit with him. The Brit did so quietly, waiting for Francis to quench his curiosity a little. Francis sighed, staring at the picture a moment longer before he began.

"The lady in the picture is my wife, Marie Williams. She was the love of my life, _et_ we were very happy together." He said gently, almost whispering when he said her name.

"…Was?" Arthur asked as he noticed the past tense, his usually serious tone softening a little.

"_Oui_. She was diagnosed with cancer shortly after our son turned three years old." Arthur could see the tears threatening to form in Francis' eyes, but the Frenchman ignored them. "She died not more than a year later…" he trailed off, his voice going slightly shaky.

"…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset…" Arthur apologised as he felt a pang in his chest. Having your wife walk out on you was one thing, but the love of your life being taken in such a cruel way…

"My son," Francis continued after a few moments, "He draws these pictures of him _et moi_, and then this big, black scribble. He interprets cancer as some sort of monster that took his mother away – even now he refuses to believe that cancer is an illness. He says the black scribble is the cancer, and he's drawn one over every picture he used to draw of the three of us."

Arthur's heart ached for the poor child – having to cope with something from such an early age, not being able to explain it so he used his own four year-old logic to cope with it. The Englishman hesitantly put his hand on Francis' shoulder, and said man offered him a small, sad smile of gratitude. They stayed like that for a few moments, before Francis sighed and mentally shook his head.

"_Désolé, _you did not come here to listen to me blabbering on." Arthur smiled at the other man.

"It's perfectly alright, and you weren't 'blabbering on'." Francis smiled at this.

"So, what about you _et_ Alfred then, _mon ami_?" Arthur was surprised Francis had even remembered Alfred's name, but he wasn't sure he wanted to tell Francis much about him yet. Francis must've read his mind.

"It's alright, you don't have to tell _moi._ I understand that I'm quite an open person…" He gave Arthur an apologetic look, before looking down at his hands.

_Well now, it was hardly fair that Francis had told me about his past life, and now I am denying Francis the same knowledge about me?_

Arthur cleared his throat, smiling kindly. "My story is not half as sad as yours – I don't want to seem competitive in any way…"

Francis chuckled – a nice sound to hear from the man who had recently been close to tears. "What a bizarre thought, _mon ami_. It never occurred to _moi_ to think about it in that way before." Arthur hesitated a moment, before nodding as he made up his mind to tell the other man after all.

"Well," He began casually, trying not to seem too bothered by it. "My wife was always lecturing me on how to bring Alfred up properly. I was doing a bloody good job, if I may say so, because she was never there to look after him anyway." Arthur was confused as to why he was getting angry about it – it was over and he never loved that bitch anyway.

He regained composure, before continuing. "She said I wasn't fit to bring Alfred up, and I got mad, yelling at her to 'go and prove it'…so she ran off with this guy who used to hang around Alfred's school, and I went over the edge. I began drinking heavily, and it got so bad that Social Services had threatened to take my son away unless my habits improved. I couldn't let them take him away – he's the only person I have left. I'd anything ever happened to him, I don't know what I'd do…"

Francis' eyes widened as he heard the Englishman's story, and it was his turn to comfort the other man. Arthur didn't realise he had said so much – it honestly shocked him to see how comfortable he was with telling Francis this.

"How terrible for you, _mon ami_…" Francis spoke gently, as if not wanting to upset either of them further by speaking too loudly. The Englishman sighed.

"It was at the time, but now I couldn't care less what she did to me and Alfred." He stated, shrugging it off as if it hadn't cost him a year of therapy and close-cutting with Social Services to get over it.

"Forgive me for asking," He ventured, turning to look at Francis, who in turn looked back at him.

"_Oui_?"

"What was your wife like? I mean, I can tell you loved her very much…" Francis smiled sadly.

"_Oui_, I did. She was kind-hearted, always willing to stop _et_ help someone in need, when anyone else would just walk straight past without looking. She was loved by everyone who knew her – especially those closest to her. Marie always took other's opinions into account before doing anything." He chuckled to himself as he remembered something. "She even made _moi_ swear I was happy with calling our son Mathieu before setting it in stone. That's the sort of person she was." Arthur couldn't possibly imagine her, but she sounded like the nicest woman on God's green earth.

"When she died, Mathieu asked if he could change his last name from Bonnefoy to Williams, so that she would never be forgotten by him or _moi_." Arthur frowned slightly, remembering that Alfred's mother had insisted their son take her surname – Jones – as his surname instead of Kirkland. It pissed Arthur off to no end but he couldn't change it until the boy was eighteen. Francis noted the frown on Arthur's face.

"_Désolé, _did I say too much?" He asked, his French accent drawing Arthur out of his thoughts and making the man's expression soften.

"Not at all." He replied, offering the Frenchman a small smile, which Francis readily returned.

At first, Arthur had thought Francis was some sort of joke – a French idiot who was so bored with his life that he decided to interfere with Arthur's as well. But, the more he talked with the other man, the more Arthur realised how far his first impression was from the truth. They were both single fathers, they both had sons about the same age. Who knows, maybe they could become good friends…

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So…yeah. I'm not really sure where this was going but now you know my version of France and England's backgrounds. Next chapter: I don't even know…we'll see what happens! **

**_Until then, mon ami…_**


	6. If there's anything I can do

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Arthur leaned back against the sofa, a strange feeling of satisfaction coming over him as he and Francis fell silent. Glancing at the clock, he realised they must've been talking for around three hours, and it was now a most ungodly time of night.

"I'm terribly sorry to have imposed on you for so long." Arthur broke the silence apologetically, rising from his seat. Francis looked up at him, as if he'd been awakened out of a trance.

"Not at all, _mon ami. _I am sorry to have kept you…" The Frenchman replied, standing as well. Arthur detected a somewhat reluctant tone in the man's voice, but Arthur shrugged it off, blaming the French accent instead. Francis showed him to the door, his friendly smile in place. However, Arthur could see past his smile and turned to face the other man as he opened the door.

"If there's anything I can do to help – " The gentleman began, but Francis waved his hand dismissively.

"You have your own son to worry about, _mon ami_~" He reasoned. "However, maybe Alfred _et_ Mathieu could play together sometime?" Francis suggested, earning a nod from Arthur.

"I'm sure Alfred would love that," He replied, bidding farewell to the Frenchman, getting in his car. Francis waved him off, before closing the door and smiling to himself.

_Oui, that man was certainly becoming more et more intriguing…_

XxX

Arthur arrived back at his house, after having Francis on his mind for the entire journey. He couldn't help but admire the man for raising his son in those circumstances, and the Englishman realised that, compared to the Bonnefoy's story, Arthur was being a wimp about having his wife walk out them. At least he could lean on Elizaveta for support, but, as far as he knew, Francis had no one.

Opening the door, he was met by silence, which was somewhat unusual for his household. He put his keys on the side and peered into the living room, smiling at the sight he saw. There was Elizaveta, sleeping peacefully in a sitting position on the sofa, with Alfred snoring quietly in her lap. Seeing the two startled Arthur into noticing just how much his Hungarian friend had been there for the Kirkland's since Alfred's mother left, and he made a mental note to thank her one day.

The Englishman picked up his son, careful not to disturb either of them as he did so, before carrying Alfred upstairs to his room. He placed the child down on his bed, tucking him in and kissing his forehead softly, before leaving the door ajar and collecting a blanket for Elizaveta. Draping it over her shoulders, he almost kissed her forehead too, out of habit.

Smiling to himself at the mistake, he straightened up and made himself a quick cup of tea before going to bed.

XxX

"Daddy!" Arthur woke in a state of panic as something jumped on him, before seeing it was only Alfred. The little energetic bundle grinned.

"Good morning, Alfred…" His father greeted wearily, still half-asleep.

"Eliza's making breakfast!" The boy replied as Arthur sat up, raising an eyebrow.

"Eliza?" He repeated, frowning a little.

"Yeah!" Alfred confirmed with an enthusiastic nod of his head. "She said I could call her that 'cause I couldn't say her last name!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "It's _surname_, not 'last name', and it's not polite to call Miss Héderváry that." Arthur continued to lecture his son until a familiar, accented voice floated up the stairs.

"Breakfast is ready~"

Alfred jumped off the bed and dashed down the stairs excitedly. Arthur shook his head, smiling at his son's sudden exit, before trailing down the stairs more slowly, making sure he was decent for their female company.

He was greeted with delicious smells and a smiling Elizaveta, looking fresh as she danced around his kitchen serving pancakes to Alfred, who had grasped his knife and fork and was banging them rhythmically on the table.

"Don't do that, Alfred. You're making a racket." The Englishman disciplined sternly, before smiling as he sat down. "Thank you, Elizaveta, you really didn't have to – "

"Yeah, she did! We'd all die if _you_ cooked!" the boy illustrated his point by grasping at his throat and pretending to fall off his chair.

Elizaveta frowned. "Hush, Alfred. You shouldn't be so mean to your father." She scolded, but her tone was more friendly and advising than telling-off. Arthur made no comment, instead accepting the cup of tea that his neighbour placed in front of him. Alfred grinned, yelling something that sounded like it was on the way to a 'thank you', before digging into his breakfast messily.

"Slow down…" Arthur started, but sighed as he realised the child wasn't paying a blind bit of attention to him. Alfred's face was already covered with God-only-knows-what, and Elizaveta chuckled at the sight.

"Pancakes for you, Arthur?" she asked, smiling at the Englishman. Arthur looked up at her, as if he'd been interrupted from a daydream.

"Oh, no thanks, Elizaveta. I'm leaving soon anyway."

Alfred looked up. "Where 're ya goin'?" he asked, with his mouth full.

"To work. And don't speak with your mouth full." Alfred frowned a little.

"You're always working and you never even play with me anymore!" the boy crossed his arms over his chest tightly, looking upset with a childish pout on his face. Arthur opened his mouth to speak but Elizaveta beat him to it, crouching down to Alfred's level and giving him her biggest smile.

"You know Daddy has to work, Al, but you and me can play, okay?" Alfred buried his face in his arms, staying quiet. Arthur just watched, feeling as if he was a stranger looking in on a mother and son, rather than his own son and their neighbour. Elizaveta was quiet a moment, before a grin appeared on her face.

"I'll make you a new cape~" She bribed the boy into showing his face, and he grinned.

"Promise?" Alfred asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion briefly before jumping up from his hair excitedly. "Okay!" the energetic child dashed into the living room, jumping on the sofa and posing like a superhero. Arthur took this as his cue to leave, and finished his tea, slipping out of the front door while Elizaveta entertained Alfred.

Getting into his car, he smiled fondly at the two of them as he could see them through the front window, before driving off.

XxX

It was early evening by the time Arthur arrived home, and he bustled through the door carrying a pile of papers and folders.

"I'm home!" he called, and Elizaveta appeared in the kitchen doorway, eyeing the amount of work he'd brought back with him.

"How was your day?" she asked somewhat delicately, noticing the weary look in his emerald eyes. Arthur sighed as he set the papers down on the kitchen table.

"Ivan wants me to have all this finished by the day after tomorrow." The Englishman sat down at his kitchen table, massaging his temples.

Ivan Braginski was Arthur's friendly but simultaneously intimidating Russian boss. He insisted that his employees address him by his first name, or rather, he advised them to do so with a murderous look in his eyes and his face half-hidden by the long, off-white scarf he always wore. It was a terrifying look and no one ever handed in their notice, for fear of being 'persuaded' to stay.

But the job paid relatively well, and it kept a roof over his and Alfred's heads, which was the main priority.

_Speaking of which…_

"Where is the little terror?" Arthur asked, using the name more fondly than meaningfully.

"He's playing in his room~" Elizaveta replied, smiling. Arthur thanked her, venturing up the stairs where the sound of toys being voiced by a ridiculously energetic boy greeted him. His father smiled as he went over to stand in the bedroom doorway, tapping the door lightly with his knuckles. The boy looked up inquisitively, grinning when he saw Arthur.

"Hey, Dad!" he put down the toy alien he had been playing with as he hugged the Englishman. "Guess what me and Eliza did today!" Arthur mentally rolled his eyes, simply not having the energy to point out that it was in fact 'Eliza and I', if you were going to be grammatically correct – which he was always determined to be.

Alfred began rambling animatedly about how he and their Hungarian neighbour had made some cakes, then gone out to the park while they were cooling down, then they came back and iced them, and then…Arthur tuned out at that point, looking like he was listening, but actually he was debating when he should get started on his paperwork.

_The sooner the better…._

"And we saved some for you too, Dad!" Alfred concluded, beaming up at him with his sparkling, baby-blue eyes. Arthur smiled back.

"Thank you very much, Alfred. I'll look forward to eating them. Now, go brush your teeth and I'll read you a story, alright?" He watched with amusement as Alfred ran off to the bathroom, knowing how much his son liked a bed-time story. Arthur barely had time to put the child's toys away, before Alfred was back, climbing onto his bed, wearing his Superman pyjamas. The Englishman shook his head in mock-amazement, earning a giggle from the boy, before fetching his '_Complete book of fairy tales' _down from the shelf.

Curling up beside Alfred, his father began to read, his rhythmic British accent the perfect kind for reading aloud, and within minutes, not only Alfred was asleep. The two Kirkland's had fallen asleep to the story, and although they were dreaming about different things, they shared a sleepy smile and a quiet snore.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm so sorry I haven't updated for a while, but my laptop's been having a tantrum, and I haven't had much inspiration as of late. I hope this slightly longer chapter will make up for it though!**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	7. PlayDate

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 7<span>**

It was a few weeks after Arthur had become aware of Francis' background life, and although the two hadn't had the time to see each other since, they regularly kept up conversation through texts and alike.

Now Arthur was rushing around the house, mentally checking everything was as it should be – which of course it was, thanks to Elizaveta – for he had invited Francis and…_Matthew was it?_ around for the afternoon after discussing it with the Frenchman. In fact, it was Francis who had proposed the idea, explaining that Matthew wasn't very confident at making new friends, to which Arthur replied that his son was so confident that he easily lost all his friends that way. The two boys, from Arthur's impression, were complete opposites.

Then again, they might just be perfect for each other, in the sense that where Alfred was outgoing, Matthew was shy. Where Alfred wanted to be the centre of attention, Matthew was apparently more comfortable at the side. But he was told both boys had their similarities, and from what he could see in that picture at Francis' house, they looked relatively similar…almost like they could be brothers.

He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the house, and hurrying down the stairs to get it. He had given Elizaveta the day off, and so he called up the stairs for Alfred. Said boy came barrelling down the stairs, almost tripping several times, before landing dressed in his superhero costume and cowboy hat; _an interesting combination_, Arthur thought, but he didn't have time to address the matter, as the child was already opening the door for them. Arthur didn't know why he was feeling so nervous about this: _maybe it was the fear of Alfred scaring Matthew away, or his son's behaviour…or maybe the house wasn't tidy enough_?

"Who are you?" Arthur was broken out of his thoughts by Alfred's cautious voice. There, standing in front of them, was Francis, who…_was his hair that silky before? And I'm not sure shirts were meant to look so - ! Get a grip, Arthur! _Hiding behind Francis' legs and holding a cuddly-toy white bear, was the little boy with the curl and the almost violet eyes, Matthew. Seeing Francis' somewhat amused glance at Alfred, Arthur jumped back to his senses.

"Uh, this is Francis, and his son, Matthew. I've invited them around so Matthew can play with you, okay Alfred?" Arthur put a hand on his son's shoulder, but Alfred was studying Francis.

"Francis is a boy's name…but you look like a girl." He pointed out simply, making Arthur's eyes widen, hoping the other man wouldn't take offence.

The Frenchman only chuckled, clearly finding it cute rather than offending. Matthew pulled on the sleeve of Francis' shirt, and the adult had to crouch down so the boy could whisper in his ear. Once the child had finished, Francis drew back up to stand again, and sent a slight apologetic look towards Arthur.

"_Désolé, _Matthew is a little shy around new people…" Francis explained, with a small hint of affection in his voice. Just then, Arthur had proof of just how close he had expected the Bonnefoy's were to each other. Francis was holding Matthew's shoulders lightly, while the boy was gripping Francis' trouser-leg, intimidated by the two strangers he was confronted with.

"Not at all," Arthur smiled reassuringly at Francis. "Please, come in." The Englishman stood aside, pulling Alfred back to do the same. The Frenchman ushered Matthew into the house, and Alfred grinned widely at the other boy.

"What's your name?" He asked, standing in front of the child. Matthew tried to hide behind his father again, but Francis uttered soothing French until the boy timidly faced the boy.

"M-Matthew…" He mumbled, and Alfred grinned.

"I'm gonna call you Matty!" Arthur had told Alfred numerous times about shortening people's names without their permission, but Matthew's eyes actually lit up a little. The shy boy nodded almost imperceptibly, and without warning, Alfred grabbed Matthew's hand and dragged him up the stairs, rambling on and on about his alien, Tony, while Matthew and his bear were obliged to follow him.

Arthur chuckled upon seeing the look of concern on Francis' face.

"Don't worry, Francis. They'll be fine." The Englishman smiled kindly, and Francis nodded, tearing his eyes away from the direction the children had disappeared to, and returning the smile.

"Would you like a drink?" Arthur asked, leading Francis into the kitchen.

"_Oui, s'il vous plait_~" he replied, following the other man. "You have a lovely home~" The Frenchman commented, gesturing to the slightly old-fashioned wallpaper and the _petit_ but cute kitchen he had just walked into.

"Thank you." Arthur acknowledged the other man's compliment with a small smile, before noticing that his laptop was still on the table. The Englishman picked it up and placed it on one of the counters instead, clearing some room for Francis to sit down. The Frenchman made the observation that it looked different in the dark, but then again, the first time he had come into this house, he was supporting a drunk Arthur and his surroundings weren't really the first things he thought about then. Now, he had the chance to see more of what this man was like from the style and décor of his home.

Francis could tell that Arthur preferred to be old-fashioned, and from the little UK flags slyly dotted around the place, he was quite patriotic too. There were photo frames decorating the walls and mantelpiece – some displaying pictures of Alfred and Arthur together, some blank, and a few deliberately turned face-down. This, Francis guessed, would be because the pictures showed his ex-wife as well, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to get rid of them completely.

_Hm, this man was getting more et more interesting by the minute~ _He was brought out of his thoughts by Arthur placing a cup of tea in front of him. Francis had drunk tea in the past, but hadn't had the drink in ages seeing as no one around him really liked it much. Now, he smiled at Arthur, thanking him and taking a sip of the English tea.

"Is tea alright for you?" Arthur asked, taking a sip of his own tea.

"_Oui, merci_~" Francis held the cup in his hands, letting the heat transfer to his palms. It wasn't particularly cold, but Francis had gotten into the habit of warming his hands from the days spent with Marie at her home in Canada. He felt eyes upon him, and looked up to see Arthur's gaze on him.

"I know I look fabulous, but I do not particularly enjoy being stared at, Arthur…" the Frenchman chuckled as the Englishman blushed and looked away, taking another sip of tea hastily.

"Sorry…" He mumbled, and Francis smiled, resting his chin in his hand and using his elbow to prop his arm up on the table.

"What were you thinking, _mon ami_?" He asked curiously, his bright blue eyes looking at the other man with curiosity. Arthur hesitated a moment, before his own curiosity got the better of him.

"I know this must seem like a terribly rude question, but…how old are you, Francis?" The Englishman asked, not meaning to but finding that he was captivated by the Frenchman's absent-minded smile and casual position.

"How old do I look?" Francis grinned as he asked in return. Arthur sighed at this, before studying the other man's face to see any obvious signs of his age.

"…I'd say about twenties….twenty-five?" He observed, hoping he hadn't offended the Frenchman, but Francis only smiled at him.

"I'm twenty-six, actually~" The Frenchman revealed, sitting back in his chair and feeling glad that he didn't look older than he actually was. Arthur mentally breathed a sigh of relief, for he could tell Francis was a guy who took pride in his appearance, and he didn't want to upset the Frenchman.

"_Et toi_?" Francis asked, taking another drink of his tea as he waited patiently for the answer.

"I'm twenty-four." Arthur replied, and Francis tried to hide the slight shock. He had thought the Englishman was older than that, from the way he always acted so stoic and sensible…_et it may have had a little something to do with the eyebrows. _"Did you think I was older?" Arthur had seen the expression Francis had worn as he found out the Brit's age.

The Frenchman was saved from answering by Alfred and Matthew bursting into the kitchen – well, Alfred ran and banged the door open against the wall, and Matthew trailed timidly after him, going over to his father.

"Can we have some sweets, Daddy?" Alfred asked, jumping up and down in front of the Englishman.

"You look hyper enough already, Alfred." Arthur chuckled, before looking at Francis. "IS Matthew allowed some sweets?"

Francis pulled an exaggerated thinking face, looking at Matthew and back to the sweets repeatedly, making the boys laugh at his comical display. Finally, Francis nodded, breaking into a grin. Matthew grinned back and joined Alfred in jumping up and down waiting for them.

Once they vanished back upstairs with the sweets, Francis and Arthur continued to exchange basic information, laughing at the occasional joke and generally enjoying each other's company. Before they knew it, Francis stood and bade Arthur a farewell, explaining that he had to take Matthew home for dinner.

"_Mathieu, mon petit_~" Francis called up the stairs, and both boys appeared on the landing. He smiled at his son. "Time to go I'm afraid. Say _au revoir_ to Alfred."

Matthew nodded, before mumbling "Bye…" to Alfred and going down the stairs to stand behind his father again.

Arthur showed them to the door, smiling so as not to intimidate Matthew. "I hope you had a nice time."

Francis smiled, "_Merci _for inviting us, we should do it again sometime~" He turned, discreetly brushing Arthur's arm with his own before ushering his son out of the house. The simple little touch managed to send shivers through Arthur, though he blamed it merely on the breeze that was let in when the door was opened. He and Alfred watched the two of them go down the road, only one thing playing on Arthur's mind.

_I can't…I can't be falling for him…can I?_

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><p><strong>AN: yes, I do always have to end each chapter with someone's thoughts…so grin and bear it! haha I joke I'm sorry I shall try to vary the endings as much as I can~**

**Reviews are appreciated!**


	8. Not a date

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 8<span>**

Arthur put down his pen and shifted yet another small pile of papers and folders to the left of his desk. The tapping of his colleagues writing up the next papers on the computers could be heard all around him, and the sound was almost distracting him from his organising. However, Arthur was determined not to lose track of his filing this time.

The last time, he had dropped three days' worth of papers all over the floor just as Ivan, his boss, walked in to see how he was getting on. Arthur had apologised profusely but Ivan had smiled and said simply that "It was no problem. Just clear it up, _da_?" to which Arthur had nodded and then spent the next two hours picking up the papers and reorganising them.

He needed to get all this work done before three o'clock, or he'd have to take it home again. But he wasn't about to take any work home with him tonight. Because tonight…well…he had a date with – _no, not a date. More like a business meeting…without the business._ Anyway, he had a 'meeting' with Francis tonight, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the study and having to cancel it.

The Englishman scribbled a note at the bottom of his paper and added it to the pile, glancing at the clock.

1:00pm.

There was no way he'd get this done in two hours…

XxX

The crashing of plastic against the wooden floorboards could be heard as Alfred and Matthew played with Alfred's collection of action-figures. Francis sat on the sofa in Arthur's house, waiting for the Englishman to return home from work.

"I'm sure he's just caught in traffic, Francis~" Elizaveta comforted, standing in the kitchen doorway as she waited for the children's dinner to cook.

The plan was that she would look after Matthew and Alfred while Francis took Arthur out. The Englishman had made it very clear when they were arranging it that it wasn't a date, and Francis had reluctantly agreed.

Francis nodded, giving Elizaveta a kind smile. "Are you sure you're alright to look after the children?" He hoped Matthew would be okay with being alone with Alfred and Elizaveta, as his son was very shy and uncomfortable around new people. But he seemed to be getting along well with Alfred, at least, and Elizaveta always did her best to be friendly towards both Matthew and Francis.

The Hungarian flapped her hands dismissively, giving Francis a friendly smile. "Of course! It's my pleasure~" she confirmed, and the Frenchman returned her smile a little more uncertainly.

Elizaveta's look turned pitying as she understood hoe reluctant Francis was to leave his son in another's hands. Arthur had told her briefly what had happened to their family, and so she was trying to make Francis feel as comfortable as possible. She could tell that Matthew was a sweet but shy child, and that his father wanted nothing more than to be by his son's side for as long as he could. But keeping his son sheltered from the world in a little bubble where nothing could hurt him was only going to cause Matthew more distress when he was older and Francis was no longer able to protect him from everything. The same thoughts were flying through Francis' mind, but the Frenchman had buried the idea of letting Matthew experience the bad of the real world with his beloved wife, for his precious, delicate child was the only thing he had left.

Both Francis and Elizaveta were almost gladly interrupted from their thoughts by the sound of someone kicking the door open suddenly. The Frenchman ventured into the hallway, to be greeted with the sight of a flustered Englishman trying to haul an enormous pile of papers and folders through the front door and into the study.

Upon seeing Francis, he flashed an apologetic smile and dumped his load onto the polished, wooden desk.

"Sorry I'm late." Arthur had inadvertently filed the wrong papers for Ivan, handing him next week's files instead. So now he had been 'advised' to take the work back home with him to complete for the next day.

"It's alright, _mon ami_~" Francis waved off his apology with a smile, but couldn't hide the worry that Arthur wouldn't be able to go out with him tonight.

His table reservation at the restaurant Francis had booked for tonight had already been taken by someone else, as they should've been there an hour ago, and the Frenchman knew that going for an evening walk afterwards wouldn't have had the same effect without the meal. The blonde's disheartened expression struck a guilt-chord in Arthur, and he had a strong urge to make it up to the Frenchman in the best way he could. The Englishman hadn't been told about the Frenchman's plans, but he assumed Francis had gone to a lot of trouble and now he'd ruined it. Arthur wanted to apologise, but a simple "I'm sorry" didn't seem like enough, and the Englishman had an idea to save the evening, or at least redeem it a little bit.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" Arthur asked hopefully, knowing it was poor compensation but it was the only option that sprung to mind. The Frenchman met the other man's hopeful look, and to Arthur's surprise, a big smile broke out on his face.

"That sounds great~" he replied, but Arthur still felt a little embarrassed by such a seemingly pathetic proposal. Francis, on the other hand, had wanted to go on a walk with Arthur after the restaurant anyway, so he was overjoyed that Arthur didn't find it ridiculous.

Elizaveta, who had been standing in the doorway for a while silently listening to their conversation, smiled as she hoped spending a while with Francis would ease the stress of Arthur's work, and conversing with Arthur would reduce Francis' fears of leaving Matthew with her.

XxX

It was getting dark as Francis and Arthur walked calmly and slowly along the bank of a local stream in silence, nothing to be heard but the smooth trickling of the tumbling water and the evening breeze disturbing the trees and ruffling the green leaves affectionately. Francis was always in awe of how beautiful England was, having moved here after Marie passed away. The three of them had originally planned to move to the British nation before she was diagnosed, and Francis had brought Matthew to England in the hopes that they would fulfil the dream Marie wanted to be part of. Francis' blonde hair caressed his face as the breeze swept gently around the two men, and he coaxed it back behind his ear to keep the golden locks out of his vision. Arthur wasn't having the same trouble, as his dirty-blonde hair was shorter and more unruly than Francis'. Eventually, they came to a halt at a bench overlooking the running path of water and sat down in silent agreement.

Francis sighed contentedly, at last breaking the quiet. "It's a lovely evening~"

"Yes it is…" Arthur agreed fondly, letting an admiring tone seep into his voice a little. Francis smiled; from his first impression, he inferred that Arthur was a very guarded man, but as they got to know each other more, he had begun to let his walls come down gradually. The Frenchman took every opportunity such as this to quench his curiosity about the Englishman, careful not to make Arthur feel as though he was being interrogated.

"Do you go for a walk often?" Francis asked calmly, entirely relaxed by his company.

Arthur regarded him a moment, before nodding. "I like the peace and quiet…and it's a change from the chaos of home." Francis nodded in understanding: although Matthew was not as excitable as Alfred, he knew how hard it was to look after a child and keep a roof over your head at the same time.

"Do you?" The Englishman tore his gaze away from the moonlight glittering in the refection of the stream to direct the question to Francis instead. The Frenchman smiled almost sadly, and Arthur realised he must've triggered a sad memory of something.

"My wife _et moi_ used to take Matthew out walking; he liked to spot the different woodland animals we would see, and Marie would tell him what they were exactly. She seemed to have exceptional knowledge of animals, which always impressed me…" Francis had Arthur imagining such a happy family, and the Englishman couldn't fathom what it was like to lose someone you loved that much.

"_Désolé_, I did not mean to be so depressing~" The Frenchman apologised, but Arthur gave him a small smile.

"It's quite alright…you must have loved her very much…" he replied, and Francis gave a small nod. "It's nice that you have fond memories of your family together."

The Frenchman looked at Arthur almost sympathetically. "Is that not the case for you?"

"Of course not. Alfred's mother and I never got along. We disagreed about anything and everything, especially Alfred." Arthur sighed; just talking about _her_ made him grit his teeth with the rage she brought out in him.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a hand being gently placed over his own, and met Francis' gaze. The Frenchman's understanding expression made Arthur feel like he could tell Francis anything in that moment, and couldn't bring himself to take his hand away. He lost himself in those still-sparkling blue eyes; no matter how dark it was, he could still see those eyes as clearly as the light of day.

Francis hesitated a moment, before slowly leaning in, giving Arthur plenty of time to push him away, but he didn't. His face was now inches away from Arthur's, yet the Englishman seemed so captivated that the Frenchman gave a small smile, before gently locking his lips with Arthur's in a soft kiss. Arthur didn't respond until Francis lifted his hand to trail up Arthur's arm, causing the Englishman to kiss back, touching Francis' cheek gently before wrapping his arms around the other's neck more confidently, bringing the Frenchman closer. All thoughts had flown from Arthur's mind as Francis slipped his tongue past his lips, engaging the other man in a battle for dominance which Francis easily won.

When they eventually pulled back for air, Francis rested his forehead against Arthur's, and the Englishman played with Francis' hair, contemplating what would happen if this went any further.

Francis smiled. "So, where do we go from here, _mon cher_?" he asked, no longer finding it fitting to call Arthur his friend.

Arthur noticed the change in French, but he had no knowledge of the meaning of either of them, so he supposed it was alright. "I…don't really know…" he admitted with a small, sheepish smile.

Francis laughed then; the sound so happy and genuine that it caught Arthur off-guard yet again, and he found himself chuckling a little as well.

XxX

Elizaveta glanced at the clock, and realised that if the two men didn't get home soon, she would have to get creative and make up a bed for Matthew. The boys had long since got bored of playing with the action-figures, and were now munching happily on some chocolate-chip cookies she had made earlier in the evening.

By rights, Alfred and Matthew should've been asleep an hour ago, but no amount of persuasion and bribery would get them settled before their fathers' came back. On the other hand, though, maybe Francis and Arthur were enjoying their time together so much that they had temporarily forgotten about being back on time. Elizaveta smiled, hoping that everything was going well. Arthur had tried to convince himself that it wasn't a date, but both Elizaveta and Francis had treated it as such anyway, knowing the Englishman couldn't be easily swayed.

The sound of the front door clicking open made Matthew and Alfred drop their half-eaten cookies and scramble out of their seats, rushing to the door. Elizaveta beat them to it, greeting Arthur and Francis with a warm smile as she caught a glimpse of them unlinking their fingers behind their backs as they entered. The two had barely had the chance to get through the door before Matthew barrelled into his father, hugging him tightly. Francis chuckled, coming down to the shy boy's level and kissing him on the forehead.

"Welcome back…" Matthew greeted with a small smile, and Francis smiled, picking him up.

"Did you have fun with Elizaveta?" he asked, and Matthew nodded, clutching the Frenchman's shirt however.

Meanwhile Alfred handed his father a piece of paper with a red blob on it that should have looked vaguely rectangular. "What's this, Al?" Arthur asked, honestly not able to make a guess.

"It's a phone-box!" Alfred beamed, pointing to the little metal figure of a London telephone box on the mantelpiece.

Arthur smiled. "Oh, I see…" he chuckled, ruffling Alfred's hair which made the boy frantically fix his hair again and grin.

Elizaveta thought the site of both parents taking an interest in their son's activity was adorable, and couldn't help but smile, feeling like she was looking in on a perfect family. She wondered how their evening turned out, but it can't have been bad as both Francis and Arthur came back smiling, and the Hungarian managed to notice that they were standing a little closer to each other than they had before. The endless possibilities flew through her mind, and Elizaveta knew then that this had to work out.

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><p><strong>AN: Hello, strangers! I'm sorry I haven't made this chapter my priority but my inspiration levels were at 0% for ages. D:**

**But I'm back! YAY!**

***Reviews are really appreciated***

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. Maybe

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

**CAN I JUST SAY…A HUGE THANK YOU TO EVERYONE FOLLOWING THIS BECAUSE IT HAS REACHED OVER 100 FOLLOWS! (It may not seem like much to you guys but it's my most popular story so I'm so happy about it!)**

**So thank you guys all so So SO much and I hope it doesn't all go to pot from here on~**

**Ahem…anyway…On to the chapter~**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 9<span>**

Both Francis and Arthur had seemed to brighten up a little since that evening, and Francis was even humming as he cleaned the dishes and placed them on the draining board to dry, before finding Matthew sitting cross-legged on the lounge floor, playing with his little white bear.

"Bedtime, _mon cheri_~" he chimed, taking off the small apron that had been tied neatly around his waist, careful not to disturb his wavy blonde hair as he eased the neck-loop over his head. The shy boy looked up, meeting his father's gaze with sweet, pleading eyes.

"Can't you read me a story first, _Papa_?" It was already a little past his bedtime, but one look at his son's angelic face condemned Francis to bend to Matthew's will and oblige to his every wish. The Frenchman smiled, giving a quick nod before pulling both Matthew and Mr. Kumajiro (that was what his son had originally called the bear, but he kept forgetting its name so just made it up sometimes) into his lap. Francis, unlike Arthur, was the type of person who preferred to make up stories as he was telling him, rather than reading from a dusty, worn old book full of clichés and sexist endings. Matthew also seemed to enjoy it more when Francis incorporated them into being the characters of the story, but Francis had to be careful not to mention any character remotely resembling his wife, for fear of turning Matthew's sweet smile to grieving tears. The Frenchman kissed the top of Matthew's head affectionately, glancing at the family photo of the three of them together, before beginning, preferring to use his mother tongue when telling stories.

"Once upon a time in a faraway land, there lived a young boy named Matthew, who rode the streets of his hometown atop a giant, fearsome polar-bear. Everyone in town was wary of this bear, but Matthew himself was the sweetest person they had ever encountered, and he was loved by all."

Matthew snuggled up to his father with a small, tired but contented sigh, and Francis knew it wouldn't be long now before the boy fell asleep in his Papa's arms.

"Because of this," he continued softly, lulling Matthew with his soft, gentle words, "the people looked up to him and Matthew swore to protect the town against anything that threatened it, and there were several times when he had. From saving an elderly lady's cat who lived down the road, to going on heroic journeys seeking special herbs for a concoction that would save a young girl's life." Francis glanced down at Matthew, seeing how long he would have to span out the introduction before he fell asleep.

Fortunately, the little boy's eyes had fluttered closed, he was breathing deeply and he was leaning against Francis' chest. The Frenchman smiled, before gently picking Matthew up and carrying him to the small bedroom that Francis had tried to make look more appealing than when they had first moved into the house. Matthew had hastened to reassure his father that he was content with the room, not wanting Francis to worry for him.

Tucking the child in and pulling the duvet covers up to the boy's shoulders, Francis smiled, kissing his forehead. Once he had finished, he retreated, closing the door softly behind him. The Frenchman was just heading downstairs when there was a quiet, tentative tap at the door, and Francis could see the vague outline of a young woman with long, brown hair tied loosely in bunches with pretty red bows, tanned skin and the straps of a light blue dress – or that was what Francis assumed, as that was the type of thing she normally wore – were also visible in the window of the front door. Francis quietly pulled the door open, greeting the woman with a smile.

"_Bonsoir_, Michelle. _Merci_ for coming, _ma chérie_~" he stood aside to let her in, and Michelle returned the smile.

"Of course, it was no trouble, big brother~" she gave him a quick but crushing hug – she was surprisingly strong despite her appearance – before putting her little white clutch-bag on the sofa.

"_Et_ where is my darling _petit _nephew?" Michelle asked, her tone smothered with fondness for Matthew.

Francis chuckled. "He's sleeping, I'm afraid. You just missed him~" Her beaming smile turned into a child-like pout at his words.

"That is simply not fair. I came all the way from the Seychelles to visit you two, _et_ he's asleep?" her words were accusing but her tone was more that of someone saying "Oh, what am I going to do with you?" in a fond manner.

Francis rolled his eyes jokingly. "You're staying over all weekend," he reasoned, "so you'll get to say 'hi' when he wakes up_, d'accord_?"

Michelle's pout broke into a smile again, "Alright then," she agreed, before seemingly remembering something. "Uh, weren't you meant to be going out with your friends tonight?"

Francis' eyes widened as he cursed under his breath. "I'd forgotten about that…" he glanced at his watch and when he saw the time he swiftly slipped his nicely-fitted light coat on, but paused, his blue eyes meeting his sister's chocolate brown orbs. "Will you be alright with Mathieu?" the Frenchman asked almost timidly, knowing his sister was more than capable of looking after his son – it wasn't as if Matthew went around reaping havoc in the absence of his father – but the fear of leaving Matthew with someone and him not being there just in case was enough to let dread seep back into his previously positive attitude.

Michelle saw this and hastened to reassure her older brother with a quick and caring hug. "_Oui_, we'll be fine, Francis~" she confirmed with a smile, before gently ushering a quietly protesting Francis out of the front door.

XxX

Gilbert Bielschmidt and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo had been Francis' friends ever since he was a young boy, and had stuck by his side through the hard times he had faced with his family and effects of the loss. Gilbert had very light, almost white hair and shocking red eyes. He was albino, but that didn't stop him from being a loud, obnoxious East-German with a strange and confident laugh. Antonio, on the other hand, was a little more toned down and had short, unruly brown hair that sometimes flopped lazily over vibrant green eyes. He was a typical Spaniard, and was always fun to be around. One of the main things the trio did together was go out sometimes on a Friday night and drink to their heart's content, having the rest of the weekend in order to sleep it off.

However, when Marie passed away, Francis had ceased his weekly night out, and went through a stage of wanting to see no one but Matthew, and he couldn't leave the boy alone or take him with him to see his friends. Recently though, Francis had been in contact with his childhood friends and arranged to go out when Michelle was visiting so someone would be there to look after Matthew. Both Gilbert and Antonio fully understood the Frenchman's situation, and were trying to be supportive by giving Francis a fun night out like they used to have. Which is why the trio of friends were currently seated at the corner table not too far away from the much depended upon bar in a small, local pub they used to like to frequent. Laughter erupted from the group as Gilbert flung one arm around Francis' shoulders, bringing them close enough to squish their cheeks together comically.

"It's been too long, _mein freund_!" he declared loudly, messing up Francis' perfectly styled hair on purpose and laughing as the Frenchman protested and struggled in the German's grasp, freeing his hands in order to fix his golden locks back into place.

"Leave him be, _idiota_~" Antonio grinned from across the table. "You can hardly blame him…" he added the afterthought quietly but meaningfully, making Gil stop and release Francis, before looking down at the polished wooden table in front of him like an ashamed puppy who just left a present on the living-room carpet.

"_Es tut mir leid_, Francis…" Gilbert mumbled, causing Francis to chuckle light-heartedly, not wanting to think about that when he was meant to be having a fun night out with his friends.

The Frenchman merely waved off the apology, before grinning and dipping his index finger in the froth of Gilbert's beer, and dabbing a small frothy dot on the albino's nose. The German laughed at this and did the same to Francis, also tackling Antonio when the Spaniard began laughing at his goofy friends, and soon they all had beer-froth on their noses, looking idiotic but not caring what other people watching thought of them. They did begin to draw some attention, but the hysterics died down before the barman had to approach them and ask if they could turn the volume down a bit. Not that the barman would do anything: the three friends were the bars best customers, and the staff had grown rather begrudgingly accustomed to their visits, although they were quietly puzzled that recent visits had lacked the Frenchman.

A buzz alerted Francis to his phone receiving a new message, and Gilbert raised his eyebrows suggestively at Antonio as the Frenchman pulled out his phone to read it. Both the German and Spaniard knew that whenever Francis got a text, it was to do with his son or it was either of them checking up on him. So they were pleasantly surprised when a pleased smile appeared on Francis' features and he typed a response. It was Arthur, who had taken to wishing him a good morning or evening when he had a spare moment, and now Francis awaited his texts, looking forward to the casual conversation to start or end the day when they couldn't see each other.

**-Good evening.**

**_-Bonsoir, mon cher ;)_**

"Who's that from?" Gilbert asked nosily as he tried to get a peek at the phone screen, but Francis held it closer to his chest at an angle so the German couldn't see it, quickly sending his reply. However, the Frenchman was too busy at concealing the messages from Gilbert's view, that Antonio easily swiped the phone from Francis' grasp and tossed it to the German before Francis could even protest. Gilbert grinned, catching Francis' phone before reading the message. This earned only a sigh from the Frenchman and a slight pout.

"Gil, give it back…" his half-hearted attempt was futile though, as Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"Who's this 'Arthur', eh?" he asked, his obnoxious tone bringing a light blush to the Frenchman's cheeks – a blush neither German nor Spaniard had seen on Francis for a very long time.

"He…He's a friend…" Francis twisted the truth slightly, knowing that the reason why he hadn't told his two best friends about Arthur was because he didn't want them to run in and ruin the Frenchman's chances – they weren't always the most desirable friends to have, especially when you were on a date and they spotted you. But now, there wasn't a way he could properly avoid telling them.

"Looks like more than a 'friend' to me, Franny~" Gilbert narrowed his eyes in exaggerated suspicion, always the expert, however, in reading his childhood friends and sussing out what he wasn't being told. Antonio shifted closer to Gil, craning his neck to see the texts from Arthur as well, just as there was a response from said Englishman. Antonio and Gilbert both read the text before Francis and raised one eyebrow each in sync, making Francis want to grab his phone back and hope Arthur hadn't replied with anything too obvious. But he wouldn't, because he was stubborn and still half-way in denial about what they were to each other.

"He's so formal, what's with that?" the Spaniard asked with amusement.

"He's English." Francis hastened to explain, personally finding the formalities cute, but realising they could seem a little strange to an outsider of their conversations.

"Sounds more like someone's boss, _mi amigo_~" Antonio remarked thoughtfully, and Gilbert handed Francis his phone back so he could type another response.

**-Can't you ever use just one language at a time? And what's with the weird face?**

**_-Aww, you're too cute, Arthur. And I do use one language at a time – they take turns throughout the sentence!_**

**-…You still havn't answered my other question.**

**_-Which was?_**

**-What's with the weird face?**

**_-It's not weird, it's a winking smiley face. Honestly, you are so out of touch with the world~_**

**-No I'm not, you bloody frog!**

**_-Oui, you are, mon cher_**

**-Am not.**

**_-Are too._**

**-That's just immature.**

**_-You started it~_**

**-I don't care, it's stopping now.**

**_-Fine~_**

There was a longer pause between their responses this time, before Arthur finally sent Francis another message.

**-Are you free tomorrow?**

**_-Of course, why?_**

**-I want to talk to you.**

**_-About?_**

**-I'll tell you tomorrow. Goodnight.**

**_-Bon nuit x_**

A strange feeling of excitement fluttered inside Francis as he wondered what Arthur could want to talk about. He hoped it wasn't anything bad, but maybe it wasn't even important.

Maybe Arthur just wanted to see him.

_Maybe…_

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><p><strong>AN: I AM SINCERELY SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING IN ABOUT 3 MONTHS! I am a terrible person DX **

**But…*cue excuse* I have been feeling kinda crappy for ages and didn't want it to reflect in my stories. Also I had 0% inspiration again. :'(**

**Anyway, please review because they really brighten up my day and seriously, I live for them O.o**


	10. Don't get excited it's not a chapter

**Hi guys! **

***shot for not updating***

**-ow.**

**anyway, just thought I would say that I'm taking a break from my longer stories for a while, because of school and trying to write my own thing right now.**

**This doesn't mean I won't post random one-shots when I have time, it just won't be fully fledged chapters for a while.**

**I'm sorry if you hate me for this but I hope you guys can understand...**

**~Harib0fizzz~**


	11. Stay For Dinner

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

**Also thank you to everyone who is sticking with this story despite the many months between updating and such~ so here's the long awaited next chapter for you~ sorry if it's bad... :)**

**Chapter 10**

Arthur suddenly felt nervous as Francis sat on his sofa in his house, waiting patiently for him to explain what he had wanted to talk about. He didn't know why he was so paranoid – he was such an over reactor in situations like these, and it didn't help that Francis' sparkling blue eyes were on him. He felt his cheeks heat up as the Frenchman raised an eyebrow.

"Are you alright, _mon cher_?" he asked, shifting closer to Arthur on the sofa as the Englishman nodded forcefully.

"Yes, I'm fine…" he managed.

_Jesus Christ, man. Pull yourself together._

"What did you want to talk to _moi _about?" that French accent gently pulled Arthur out of his berating of himself and the Englishman gave an almost sheepish smile.

"It's just that…I…um…" he blushed again, and Francis raised an eyebrow, not saying anything as he waited for Arthur to continue. "I…I want to see you more." He eventually admitted, and the Frenchman fought the urge to laugh at how difficult even that had been for the Englishman. Arthur took Francis' lack of response as possible rejection, and hastened to try and change his mind.

"I mean, I know it's hard for both of us trying to balance our sons and work and everything else, but we could organise more playdates for Alfred and Matthew and then we could – " Francis had leaned in and cut off Arthur's words by pressing a delicate finger to the other man's lips, before smiling at the slightly surprised Englishman.

"You're simply adorable when you blush, _mon cher_. Did you know that?" Arthur frowned once he had regained his composure.

"It's rude to interrupt people when they're speaking, frog." He crossed his arms, trying to pretend he hadn't felt a jolt of excitement as Francis moved closer to him, their faces inches apart, but he had a feeling Francis saw right through his act.

"I didn't interrupt you, I simply thought you were getting too worked up about something I already knew you were going to say. Is that so bad?" Francis grinned, and Arthur avoided his gaze, glaring at the floor.

"It's the same _bloody_ thing…" he muttered, and Francis smiled, shifting even closer and placing a delicate kiss on Arthur's cheek. The Englishman huffed, and swatted him away half-heartedly, hiding the small smile that had appeared on his blushing features.

XxX

A few days later, Arthur was sat on the sofa in Francis' tidy home, watching as Alfred and Matthew played together on the living-room carpet in front of him. Humming could be heard from the kitchen as delicious smells of Francis' cooking wafted into the living-room, and Arthur couldn't help but think this is what a family should be like. He quickly blushed and mentally shook his head of the thought, however, realising how ridiculous the thought was. Besides, Alfred had yet to warm up to Francis, and likewise with Matthew and himself.

"_Neey-oom!_ Flying bear attack!" Alfred yelled, grabbing Matthew's soft white teddy bear and making it fly through the air above the shy boy's head. Matthew jumped up, reaching his arms out to take the bar back.

"Give it back…" he asked quietly, but was drowned out by Alfred's incessant plane noises as he swept the bear through the air.

"Alfred…" Arthur warned, using his stern tone of voice, but Alfred ignored him, and Arthur could see Matthew's expression begin to crumple.

_If Francis came in and saw Matthew in tears because of my own son…_ Arthur didn't want to ruin his chances with the Frenchman, and stood, snatching the white bear from his son's grasp. Alfred was stunned a moment, but didn't have enough time to grab at it again before Arthur crouched down next to Matthew, offering him his toy back.

Matthew seemed wary of him, and instead of accepting the toy, he jumped onto the sofa and hid his face in the soft cushions. Arthur sighed a little, wanting the shy boy to warm up to him, but knowing it would take time. He placed the bear gently beside Matthew, before sitting again at the opposite end of the sofa.

Francis came in at that moment, holding a tray with two cups of tea and two glasses of juice. Arthur happened to glance at him, but found his gaze lingered longer than it should have. Francis had his blonde hair tied back with a dark blue ribbon, but the front strands had fallen out of the ribbon, framing his face beautifully. He looked more relaxed, brighter in his own home, and Arthur didn't realise how long he had been staring until Francis gently nudged a cup into the Englishman's hand with a smile. He blinked, blushing as he realised Francis had caught him staring, and averted his eyes.

Francis smiled again, before seating himself between Arthur and the curled up Matthew. Alfred was drinking his juice quickly, gulping it down as if he had somewhere to be. When he finished, he had some juice remnants around his mouth, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Come here, Alfred." He requested, beckoning him while retrieving a tissue from his pocket. Reluctantly, Alfred approached, knowing what was coming. Arthur held his son's face under the chin to keep him still as he cleaned his face, ignoring the faces Alfred made. Matthew raised his head from the cushion, hugging his bear before climbing into Francis' lap, earning a kiss on the forehead as Francis held his juice for him.

Arthur glanced at them, noticing how it seemed to go from one extreme to the other as far as they were concerned. Francis had a darling child who was obedient and quiet, and seemed to utterly adore his _Papa_. And then there was Alfred, who would stop at nothing to make things difficult for Arthur. He envied the relationship that Francis and Matthew shared, only wishing that someday, he and Alfred could bare even an ounce of resemblance to it.

"Will you stay for dinner, _mon cher_?" Francis asked, and Arthur noticed that although the Frenchman seemed to be coping well, his eyes showed weariness and stress. "My sister is staying with us, but she has gone out with some of her friends who live here, so Matthew _et moi_ will be on our own. Since you're already here…"

Arthur glanced down at Alfred, who nodded frantically. "Alright then. We would love to~" the Englishman gave a smile, which Francis returned gratefully.

XxX

The four of them lay down their cutlery, satisfied with the delicious meal Francis had cooked. By the time they finished eating, it was gone 9 o'clock and both boys were wavering on their feet, struggling to keep their eyes open any longer. In truth, both Francis and Arthur felt the same way, but they put it down to the many glasses of wine both had had throughout the evening.

"Papa…" Matthew reached up to his father, who gently picked him up and cradled him a moment.

"Would you like to stay the night?" he offered kindly. "You don't look like you're in any position to drive home, Arthur. Besides, it's too late to drive back now, anyway~" the Frenchman's smile along with his gentle words was way too tempting for Arthur to refuse, and he nodded.

"Thank you…" he knew Francis had discovered how he wasn't very good at handling his alcohol, which is why he had tried to limit himself. But being in Francis' company had made him feel so relaxed and he felt quite hazy, knowing it was a bad sign when he couldn't focus entirely on Francis' words.

"Alfred and Matthew can sleep in Matthew's room." Francis planned out loud, smiling as his son snuggled against his chest. "But…my sister has the only spare room…so you can sleep in my room, _mon cher_~"

Arthur imagined waking up in Francis' arms. Warmth, the feeling of being needed again. He nodded, too tired to argue but also wanting to feel the sense of belonging that Francis seemed to emanate.

Francis smiled, before calling a sleepy Alfred to follow him and leads him up the stairs, Matthew still in his arms. Arthur watched them, struck by how perfect the three of them looked together. Alfred would be happy with Francis, and Arthur was only ruining the picture.

_Wait…they weren't even a family…oh god, I hate drinking. _

Francis came back downstairs, smiling to himself as he offered a hand to Arthur. The Englishman took it, standing but doing so too fast and stumbling into the Frenchman. Francis caught him in surprisingly strong arms, and Arthur looked up at him, realising how close they were, not quite wanting to pull away. Francis seemed to be feeling the same, and for a moment, they just stood, staring at each other.

Too soon, Francis pulled away, releasing Arthur with a bizarrely nervous sounding laugh. Instantly, Arthur found himself wishing for Francis' closeness again, but the Frenchman had stepped back from him.

"I'll show you to my room…" Francis offered a hand to Arthur, who took it, grateful for the support as they made their way to the stairs. He said something else, but Arthur couldn't make out what it was, feeling dizzy and having to lean against Francis heavily. The Frenchman wrapped one arm around Arthur's waist to keep him up and opened the door to his bedroom. It was a nice little room, with a double bed in the middle, and shelves and a desk of organised chaos. But Arthur didn't take any of it in as Francis sat him down on the bed.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, _mon cher_~" Francis smiled, before retreating towards the door again.

"…Where are you going?" Arthur mumbled questioningly, looking up at Francis with a confused, rosy-cheeked expression. Francis blinked at him, realising Arthur must have misunderstood his offer. He had meant that Arthur could take his bed, and he would sleep on the sofa instead. He gave a smile.

"I'll sleep on the sofa tonight…" he explained simply, and didn't miss the disappointed frown on the Englishman's face. Arthur got up again, intending to walk over to Francis but ended up stumbling into his arms. He was stunned a moment, but then saw he had made it to Francis and gave a smile. The Frenchman knew Arthur was drunk and didn't want him to think that Francis was the type of person to ever take advantage of someone. But he made the mistake of meeting Arthur's emerald gaze, and leaned down a little, kissing Arthur softly. The Englishman responded by throwing his arms around his neck, both of them staggering backwards and falling onto the bed.

Francis felt one of Arthur's hands run through his hair, his fingers clumsily trailing down to touch Francis's cheek. It made the Frenchman remember the state Arthur was in and he pulled back reluctantly but firmly. He saw Arthur open his eyes and try to reach upwards again, but Francis gently put a hand on the Englishman's chest.

He sighed, unable to tear himself away from Arthur completely, so he lied down beside the other man, pulling the duvet over both of them as Arthur snuggled up to him and rested his head on the Frenchman's chest, falling asleep quickly. Francis closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around the now sleeping Brit, before falling into slumber happy and for once, needed again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey so it took me so long just to write this chapter so it doesn't mean that I'm "back" it just means that I have inspiration for other things. But I was determined to update in the holidays and it's the last day of the holidays for me so I guess I made it! XD **

**Please review~~~**


	12. I Just Need Time

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia~**

**Chapter 11**

Michelle was unaware of the unscheduled guests, and made her way up to Francis' room in the morning to wake him. She knocked lightly on the door, her rhythmic, cheerful knock, but there was no answer. She assumed Francis was just having a good dream or something, and opened the door to indeed see her brother, but what she had not expected was that he would have another man in his bed. She blinked a moment, having not seen her brother in a relationship since her sister-in-law had passed, but seeing the peaceful smile on his features and the way he embraced the man she did not know, made her retreat and close the door again softly, not wanting to disturb his happiness.

Instead, she crept down the corridor, peering into Matthew's room and seeing another boy as well, and a million questions and scenarios played out in her mind as she skipped downstairs to make breakfast for five. She knew it was uncharacteristic of her brother to have fleeting relationships or 'one night stands', and she was pleased that he was finally making himself available again. She was undeniably a little put-out that Francis hadn't mentioned anything to her, but she guessed it hadn't been a planned encounter.

"Love is never planned, silly~" Michelle said aloud, smiling to herself as she made the breakfast, and soon the familiar, delicious smell of pancakes drifted upstairs.

XxX

Arthur dragged open his eyes wearily, taking a moment to look around his unfamiliar surroundings, becoming aware of a warm embrace and the feel of a strong chest supporting his head. He looked up, seeing Francis' defined jawline and hint of stubble, his gaze lingering on the Frenchman's peaceful expression that was still in slumber. A headache was threatening to make itself known to Arthur, and he began to piece together what had happened the night before. He remembered drinking some wine, and he assumed he must have lost track of how much…

Arthur's eyes widened and he pulled back so much that he almost fell out of the bed, jerking Francis' arm with his movement. The Frenchman frowned a little as he began to stir, disturbed by Arthur's jolt. The Englishman didn't want to wake him, afraid that he would find out what had happened if Francis woke up.

Arthur hadn't been with anyone since his wife left him, and now he was beginning to reel at the thought that he might have slept with someone whom he liked but still wasn't sure about. It was all beginning to spiral out of control and Arthur could just imagine something going wrong if they chose to progress with…whatever their relationship was now. Overcome with a panic that he just had to get away from the situation, he sprang out of bed, now jolting Francis awake.

Francis reluctantly opened his eyes, but once he saw Arthur making towards the door, he sat up quickly. "Arthur?"

The other man froze, and Francis could see how tense and jumpy he was. Francis threw back the covers, standing with the intent of going over to ask what was wrong, but Arthur had a firm hand on the door handle by then.

"Arthur, _mon cher_…" he began, but was cut off by Arthur's frantic voice.

"Don't call me that!" His words stunned both of them, as Arthur hadn't meant too sound so harsh and angry, and Francis quietened, fearing that he had done something to upset Arthur.

The Englishman turned around to face Francis, and when he did, he saw surprise and confusion in Francis' expression, which wrenched his heart. Francis wanted an explanation, and he didn't have one to give him.

"I just…I need to go." He stated, pulling the door open but not getting far as he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He reluctantly turned back to Francis, who was now much closer, and it made it more difficult for Arthur to think clearly.

_God, why is this so bloody hard? I just need to think…_

"I'm sorry if I have done something to upset you, _mon_ – Arthur…" the Frenchman's voice was so gentle, as if he were afraid Arthur might break if he spoke too loudly. At this, Arthur wavered, averting his eyes so he wouldn't see Francis' overly caring expression.

"You…you haven't done anything wrong…" he admitted after a few moments, looking back to Francis and reluctantly shifting so Francis was no longer touching his arm. "I just…need some time…"

Francis gave a small nod and looked down at the floor, as if thinking that Arthur actually didn't want to be with him anymore, and was just being nice. This pained Arthur too much, and he gently reached up and cupped Francis' face, coaxing him to meet his gaze. Cerulean met emerald as Arthur kissed Francis softly, knowing words wouldn't be able to explain how he felt. He was conflicted, and afraid that Francis might hurt him like his wife had. No matter how much he knew Francis would never do such a thing, he couldn't risk having his heart smashed into pieces again. Pulling back, he saw Francis open his eyes, but turned away before anything more could be said between them.

Francis didn't try to stop him as Arthur left the room this time, and the Englishman walked briskly down the corridor, encountering the two sleepy children just wandering out of their room, enticed by the aroma of pancakes. Arthur didn't pay any mind to the smell, or that there must be someone else in the house, touching his son's shoulder.

"Get dressed and make sure you have everything ready. We're leaving soon, okay?" he tried to make his tone nice enough, but Alfred frowned at his words.

"What? But I don't want to leave yet!" he shrugged away from Arthur's hand, going on the defensive as he had done so much to Arthur after his mother had left.

"This is not a debate." Arthur stated, not in the mood for Alfred's stubbornness now. "Get dressed now."

Alfred glared at him, resembling his mother when he did. Francis had appeared behind Arthur quietly, not interfering, which made Alfred angry at him as well.

"Papa…" Matthew was becoming upset by the fact that Alfred had to leave so soon. "Why does Alfred have to leave?"

Francis forced a smile, unaware of how easily his son could see through it by now. "His father has things to do today, so they have to go home…" Matthew didn't seem satisfied with this answer but went quiet again, feeling afraid as Arthur had started yelling.

"Alfred Jones get dressed right now!" Arthur's voice was thunderous and even Alfred faltered, as Arthur had never been so angry with him before. Everyone went silent, and Arthur realised that he had let his emotions about Francis slip, and he spoke again, this time more quietly. "I'll wait for you downstairs." With that, he walked past the children and down the stairs, not looking back.

Francis felt his heart wrench as he was still struggling to keep his emotions in check, though he had no idea if he was ever going to see Arthur again. Alfred stormed into Matthew's room to change out of the pyjamas Matthew had lent him, slamming the door behind him. Matthew was overwhelmed by all that had happened, still waking up, and he began to cry, upset by all the loud sounds and the angry voices. Francis comforted him as best he could, but inside, he wanted to cry too.

XxX

Arthur and Alfred left once the boy was ready, and Michelle, who had heard all the commotion, peered from the kitchen doorway as Francis and Matthew trailed downstairs. Matthew had since stopped crying, and the three of them sat at the table, with five places laid for breakfast but only three taken. They ate quietly, but Francis only picked at his pancakes, mumbling thanks to his sister for making them breakfast.

Once they were done, Matthew went off to play quietly in his room, and Michelle shifted seats so she sat next to her brother.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, her tone kind and concerned, seeing the tears forming in Francis' eyes. Her brother nodded, but his expression crumpled and he began to cry, as he knew that he loved Arthur, but he didn't know if he would have another chance to even see him. Michelle hugged him, knowing how sensitive her brother was, especially after all that had happened to him.

Francis hugged her back, unable to stop crying as it hurt to lose someone else in his life.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Crappy ending to the chapter I know…but yay! I updated! And hopefully soon I will have more time to update this story~ **

**Thank you for your patience and as always I would love it if you reviewed~**


	13. All my fault

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

**Chapter 12**

Arthur sighed, staring at the papers in front of him for so long that the words blurred into an inky mass in front of him. He was tired, having shut himself in his study three hours ago, but he had barely scratched the surface of the work his boss had told him to complete by tomorrow. It didn't help that there was the constant sound of thumping and knocking things over upstairs.

Alfred was having a tantrum because of how they had left Francis' house earlier. But Arthur had tried to ignore it, knowing it would only end with him upsetting Alfred even more. He was trying not to think of what had happened, but Francis' face kept forming in his mind. Arthur felt stupid, wishing that he had just stayed in Francis' arms instead of dragging Alfred off home. He hadn't felt so lonely before, even after his wife left him, it was a wave of relief in comparison to the feeling that something was missing to him now.

Arthur stood, crossing the room to a small cabinet and retrieving a key from the top drawer that was out of Alfred's reach, before crouching down and unlocking the two cupboard doors. He opened them, revealing a few bottles of different spirits. He kept them locked away so he wouldn't be tempted to drink too often, and so that Alfred wouldn't stumble across them accidentally. But now he felt like the bottles were the only form of comfort he had, and he poured some amber-brown liquid into a glass and went back to his desk, so eager for the drink that he didn't realise he had left the cabinet open.

XxX

Matthew hated to see his father so quiet. He was usually happy, smiling and always had a spring in his step. But now, as Matthew watched his Papa from the kitchen doorway, he saw the sad demeanour that he had witnessed too much after the death of Matthew's mother. Francis' movements looked stiff and almost robotic as he cooked the dinner, and he wasn't humming or dancing around the kitchen with the radio on, like he normally did. His hair was tied back roughly with an elastic band, instead of arranged into a neat ponytail and tied with a ribbon. Matthew knew his father was thinking about Arthur, and though he didn't know what had happened, he could tell it wasn't good.

Michelle almost bumped into Matthew as she was making her way to the kitchen, before noticing the boy was standing in the doorway watching his father. She paused, glancing at both of them. She had never met the man and the boy that her brother and nephew seemed so close to, but it was plain to see how much they had altered Francis and Matthew's lives.

She put a hand on Matthew's shoulder lightly, and he glanced up at his aunt, offering a small smile, but he missed Alfred and he didn't like seeing his father so melancholy.

"Why don't you go and play while I talk to your father for a bit?" she suggested kindly, and Matthew moved away from the door, obediently going into the living room. Michelle watched him go, before entering the kitchen quietly. Francis wasn't aware she had come in, caught up in trying to figure out what had gone wrong with Arthur and him. And when Michelle laid a hand on her brother's shoulder, he jolted slightly in surprise, the simple movement tearing him from his thoughts momentarily. Seeing his sister, Francis offered a smile, as if nothing was wrong.

"Bonjour. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes~" his expression and tone were familiar to Michelle. His too-chirpy tone sounded a little strained, as if he was trying too hard to sound happy and normal. And his expression was one of a forced smile, but it was a poor disguise for the echo of pain and upset in his eyes. It saddened her to see her brother like this, and for once, her never-faltering smile did falter.

"I haven't seen you like this since…" she began, but realised it would do no good to put salt in Francis' wound by mentioning his late wife. Michelle sighed, gently taking both of Francis' hands in hers, coaxing him to look at her and not ignore her in favour of cooking instead. Francis turned to her as she had wanted, his expression forlorn although he still managed the strained smile he hoped was convincing enough.

"I didn't really get a chance to meet the guy in your bed," Michelle gave a small smile, as that was what she was referring to him as. "But whoever he was, it's clear you care about him."

Francis responded with a small nod, not speaking which gave her permission to continue.

"…What happened?" she asked gently, as she was only able to gather that something happened between her brother and the guy in his bed. Francis hesitated, his expression threatening to crumple again as he looked like he about to let tears slip.

"I don't know what I did wrong…" his voice was quiet and wobbly; it was clear that he had fallen so deeply for Arthur that he blamed himself for what had happened between them. Michelle frowned slightly, as she knew Francis had blamed himself for his wife's passing before as well.

"What happened, frère?" she asked again patiently, wanting to know how this could be resolved.

"He…Arthur said he just needed some time…but –"

"Well there you go. He 'just needs some time' doesn't mean 'I hate you and I never want to see you again'." Michelle pointed out, offering her brother a kind smile, but Francis didn't look reassured.

"Besides," she continued, placing a hand gently on his arm to comfort him. "How could anyone ever hate you?"

At this, Francis manages a small smile, as his little sister had always thought the world of him. He pulled Michelle into a hug, to thank her for trying to comfort him. He still felt down about Arthur leaving like he did, but he hoped he was just reading too much into Arthur's words. Michelle beamed, hugging him back, before standing on her tip-toes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Matthew, who was watching quietly from the doorway, smiled at seeing his father happier again. Perhaps his father would get to see Arthur again, and he was waiting for the next time he could play with Alfred.

XxX

Alfred knew his father had been drinking again instantly. He peeked through the gap left by the adjacent door of the study, seeing the cabinet he had always been banned from, open and revealing shiny, tinted glass bottles. He didn't know exactly what they were, but he knew when Arthur drank from them, it made him grumpy, angry or upset. He hoped his father wasn't angry this time, as he pushed the door open a little wider, seeing his father sat in his office chair, staring at the wall in front of him.

"…Dad?" Alfred ventured into the room, holding his toy alien for comfort. Arthur started slightly at the sound of Alfred's voice, turning to look at him. He had tear tracks down his cheeks, and Alfred noted he looked both sad and scared, something he rarely saw on his father's usually stern features. Arthur didn't even bother trying to hide the fact that he had been crying, and his expression creased again as silent tears slipped down his slightly pink cheeks. Alfred frowned slightly at this, going over to him and offering him his toy alien to cuddle for comfort.

"Tony wants to know if you're okay…" Alfred mumbled, trying to pretend he was the stronger one now that his father was crying in front of him. Arthur felt a stab of guilt as he realised this, and pulled his son into a hug, sitting him on his lap in the chair. Alfred, for all his show of being brave and strong, hugged his father back tightly.

"I'm sorry, Alfred…for ruining…your sleepover…" Arthur whispered in a wobbly voice, but Alfred pulled back a little, meeting his father's teary gaze and offering a smile.

"That's okay…me and Mattie can have a sleepover another time~" he hoped this would cheer his father up, and for a moment, Arthur didn't respond. But eventually, he managed a smile and gave a small nod.

"Yes, of course you can…" he promised, not wanting the children to pay for his own fears of a relationship. Alfred was overjoyed by this, hugging his father again. Arthur hugged him back, kissing the top of his head lightly.

He realised that he had pushed away a new start in life, a chance to give Alfred the family he deserved again, and to do the same for Matthew. And it had been a chance for Arthur to share the difficulties of raising a child with Francis, not to mention fall in love again. But he had pushed it all away.

It was all his fault.

He loved Francis, he knew he did. But he was also scared to love him. Scared to open himself up to being stabbed in the back.

He didn't know what he wanted anymore, but he longed for Francis to wrap his arms around him once more, at least.

**A/N: So a bit of a depressing one, sorry. But don't worry, Arthur will get his wish soon (hopefully)! **

**I'm sorry for not updating in centuries but I'm struggling with work and such at the moment so I have to sacrifice my writing...but I hope you enjoyed this chapter...**

**Reviews are the source of my happiness~ So please make me happy XD**


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